Sister Mary Elizabeth moved stealthily down the narrow passageway, her habit whispering softly against her svelte legs. A thin layer of nervous sweat clung to her youthful breasts as she rounded the corner toward Mother Superior's cell.
She paused at the door, her eyes wide and frightened. A deep, troubled guilt rose within her as she thought of the obscene dream she had just had. She had relished it. In her subconscious she had taken part in the raw lusts of sex, and now she must have Mother Superior talk to her to quell the fear and apprehensions.
She decided not to knock, for fear of waking someone who might hear the terrible confession. She pressed the latch gently, quietly pushing the door open a crack. She hesitated a second, then peered around the door.
Her heart stopped. She pressed a trembling hand to her thick, sensual lips as the nightmarish scene came into focus.
Mother Superior's body was backlighted by a small candle burning near the head of her bed. Sister Mary stood frozen, her eyes peeking around the corner of the cracked door, watching the Mother's hips lurching upward toward the other woman's mouth. Soft moans filtered from the creaking bed, filling Sister Mary's ears with a disgusting hatred.
"Ah, deeper. Shove your tongue deeper into me. Ahhh. Lick it slowly. Slowly. Like a butterfly."
On the bed, the older woman's body was half-stripped. Her top was opened, revealing her large, naked breasts. The bottom of the flannel nightgown was hiked around her waist, baring her heavy thighs.
Sister Mary, frozen by both fear and confusion, strained to see who the girl was with the Mother Superior. The head rose up from between the legs. Sister Mary gasped. It was Sister Hilda, the novice from Germany! Her short-cropped hair was straw blonde, a bowl cut around her sharply defined face. She was very pretty, with high cheekbones and deep, ice-blue eyes. Her naked body was perfectly carved, with high, jutting breasts and a narrow waist that billowed out to form a wide, flaring ass.
Sister Hilda's hands were cupped around the Mother Superior's tits, the thumbs and forefingers squeezing the older woman's nipples, making them form hard, purple, fingerlike erections.
"You feel so good," the German girl said, her tongue lapping at the Mother's stomach. "I have wanted to taste you ever since I came here. I have wanted to love you. I knew you wanted me. I could tell by the way you kissed me. By the way you held my hand during Mass."
"You are a lovely girl," Mother Superior said, her old, wrinkled hands sliding down the young girl's back, touching, caressing, outlining the voluptuous shape of her buttocks. "I will take care of you, Hilda. I will teach you how to survive the bonds of your chastity. We will share the secrets of one another."
She pulled the girl up, their bodies melting together. Sister Mary could see the two tongues searching out the mouths, wavering in the air until they touched.
"Lick me again," Mother Superior panted, breaking the kiss. "Lick me and then I'll lick you."
Sister Mary's blood pounded through her veins as she watched Hilda slithering down between the Mother's thighs. She saw the young girl's fingers pulling and opening something between the Mother's thighs, then her face slowly disappearing into the fork of Mother's widespread legs.
Mother arched her hips, shifting them sideways, dragging her fingernails up the German novice's back. Sister Mary's own body began to uncontrollably move with the rhythm of the two women. She felt the hot surges of excitement tingling throughout her loins. Long, snakelike tendrils of excitement teased at her groin, making the warmth of her own vagina seem aflame. Unconsciously, she pinched her thighs together, forcing the puffed lips of her cunt to saw against one another.
The cold brass knob on which her hand rested grew warm. Her fingers squeezed around it, the sweat making the lifeless metal seem fleshy. She massaged it, a great weakness overcoming her as she watched Sister Hilda push up the Mother's legs until they were pointed toward the darkened ceiling.
The soft slurping, sucking sound of the girl's lips wafted throughout the room. Sister Mary's hand moved from her frozen lips, touching first the top of her chin, then slowly inching down until she felt the pressure of the tips against her hot breasts.
As though directed by some demon, she touched her throbbing tits experimentally, the fingers slowly, teasingly brushing over the firm swell of her youthful mounds. She squeezed the aching nipples through the coarse material of the habit. Her breath caught in her constricted throat. She felt the air thinning around her nostrils and gasped, trying to fill the empty feeling in her lungs.
Before her, the two women had shifted. Sister Hilda had swung around, poising her pussy over the Mother Superior's face. She heard the Mother speaking: "Such a nice, soft, furry cunt. Such pink, young lips. Oh, Hilda. I love you. I'm going to eat you, Hilda. I'm going to suck the juices from you. I'm going to share with you the beauty of my love, and my protection. You will always be my favorite," the words continued as the tongue lanced out, hidden from sight by the young German girl's creamy smooth thighs.
At the door, Sister Mary's hand restlessly moved from her breasts. She had to put a stop to the burning between her thighs. She felt the fingertips inching down past her navel, pressing hard against the soft, silken nest of her pubic hair. She inched the fingers farther, the middle one rounding the top of her pubis until it was gently sawing against the flaming pit of her growing passion.
No, she thought with tortured remorse, no, I can't do this. I can't let myself do this. But I can't stop. Oh, God, save me! Help me. Help me put out the fire. Help me fight the . . .
Her plea was scorched by the maddening beat of her fingers. They were jammed firmly against her cunny, shoving the habit into her groin. Her eyes were glued on the scene a few feet into the Mother Superior's room. The two women were rolling around on the small bed, their legs locked firmly around one another's head, their fingers poking and jabbing at each other's buttocks. The strong scent of sex filled Sister Mary's nostrils.
She sawed faster at her thirsty cunt, the tips of her fingers burying themselves into the gaping slit. She could feel the great welling of lust and the surge of blinding passion grabbing her. The knob in her hand turned icy as she arched her back and shuddered, her stomach convulsing and squeezing out a wild burst of wet orgasms.
She bit her lip, trying to swallow back the scream that rose from her guts. She stood, shivering as the warmth gave way to cold guilt. On the bed, the bodies were rigid. The hips twisting, mouths gasping, hands clawing. She heard the simultaneous moans and watched the last frantic, rabbit-like jerks of their shadows against the east wall, then she pulled the door softly shut and ran crying to her dark cell.
* * *
"But Sister Mary, why?"
Sister Mary avoided Mother Superior's eyes. She sat nervously wringing her hands.
"I have my reasons," she said coldly.
"But after a year, my dear. And the work you've put into the school. All those children who will miss you. You've got to think this over."
"I have," Mary said, holding the Mother Superior's questioning eyes for a moment. She was perhaps fifty, her features strong and buxom. She had always been comforting to Mary, until now. Mary had always held Mother Superior in such esteem-the true Lily of the Field. All until last night.
"But you must tell me why, Mary. I cannot allow you to leave in such secrecy."
"I . I'm sorry," Sister Mary answered, her eyes downcast. "It's something I just can't talk about."
"You've talked to me about many things, Mary. Please, tell me what it is?"
Sister Mary felt the tears. She fought them back. "No," she blurted. "I can't."
"Then for heaven's sake, please talk it over with the Bishop. If you can't tell me, then tell him."
Again she shook her head.
"A leave of absence, then, Mary? Please, don't throw away all the hard work. You have your teacher's credentials. Take a few months to think it over, but don't throw away all you've got to give here. I know you, Mary," she said softly, her voice reaching out and draping Sister Mary lovingly, "and I know you are one of us. I know that this is the world for you. A world of service. A world of deep love. A world of giving of yourself unselfishly."
Mary glanced up. The Mother Superior's eyes were steady, her face turned up in a gentle smile. For an instant, Mary almost thought she was going to blurt out the accusation, then checked herself.
"I will not guarantee anything," Mary said firmly. "I'm leaving today. I will, out of respect, consider signing the leave of absence papers. But I do not plan on returning to the convent. I will not take my vows."
"Don't be so emphatic, Mary. Not until you've tried to work out the problem. I'm ..." she paused, her voice cracking. "I'm hurt that you won't tell me what it is. I've always had a special place for you in my heart. I've watched you grow up. I've watched you become a . . . "
The final word was never spoken. Mary felt the twinge of lust lurching through her. She saw flashes of last night's scene flicker before her eyes and felt, more powerful than ever, a strange thirst for the woman's comforting arms. "Good-bye," Mary said.
"Peace be with you, Mary," Mother Superior said, extending her hand. Mary hesitated, then touched it. It was warm. She let go, her heart beating too rapidly for comfort.
"Write," Mother Superior said.
Mary nodded, backing her way out of the room and running with the stinging wetness of her tears clinging to her face.
The letter had taken two months to reach her, but it was like God Himself had directed it. Even now, as she drove through the heavily wooded residential district, she could feel the warmth of a new life starting to grow.
At first she had wondered whether or not to contact the Oakdale School for Young Gentlemen, only because it had come recommended by Mother Superior.
After two months of wandering, thinking, living on the small savings, speaking to hardly anyone, the opportunity to teach, to become a viable human being, had been too tempting to refuse.
The interview had gone well. They liked her and she liked the school. The salary was beyond her expectations, and the healthy advance had allowed her to buy the kind of clothes and even a car that the school required of its staff.
Perhaps the only thing that bothered her was the fact that the school dealt with hard-to-handle boys from wealthy families. She would have preferred working with minority children but then the opportunity was one she couldn't pass up, and besides, she thought, the job could become a springboard to something she really liked.
She was anxious to begin the two main classes, English literature and creative writing. There were two of them teaching the classes, she and Bob Walton.
The school was very experimental in many ways, she had found out. Like Bob Walton. He was black, tall, ruggedly handsome with a kind of soft ferocity in his eyes that made the boys toe in. Yet, she had noticed at the faculty meeting last week, there was something soft and tender about him. His laugh put her at ease.
Ray Schooner was another one she liked. The football coach. He was a bit stocky, with a jovial smile and light, dancing blue eyes that made her feel welcome whenever they touched her. His closely shaven head and broad face marked him as the kind of man who gave a hundred percent to his job, and she doubted that any of the boys would question his authority.
Dave Smith, the school director, an older graying man teetering between age and youth, had been a prince of a man. He told her what to look out for, how to handle trouble if it came and was pleasantly frank about how glad he was to have her with the staff.
"Our job doesn't have room for any nonsense," he had said, "and we've selected you because we feel your background is one of dedication. And it takes a lot of dedication and patience to get anything across to these kids."
Mary swung the car into her slot and hurried up the stairs. She nodded at a pair of teachers, whose name escaped her, and clicked down the hall toward her room.
She would begin with Creative Writing One, for the twelve- and thirteen-year-olds. Her course outline suggested the first session be a free expression, to survey what the boys could do, and then to work on an individual basis with each one's special talent.
The room was rich in heavy oak. Ivy climbed the brick walls, forming deep, green frames around the windows. She moved around the room, getting to know it as though it were a person, touching the walls and paintings that gave the place a touch of expensive quality.
A warning bell rang. She looked behind her and saw a young, sharply dressed youth swagger in. His hair was dark and curly, his features sharp. Dark brows formed a line over his hazel eyes as he stood a moment, staring at her, letting his eyes drift from her face to her feet. She felt slightly embarrassed, like some piece of raw meat under inspection. The boy's eyes held fast a moment on her breasts.
"You the nun?"
Mary's mouth dropped.
"Well, are you?"
"No," she said, her face red and voice flustered. "I'm not a nun."
"My dad said you were a nun."
"I . . . " That information was supposed to be confidential. She took a deep breath. Another boy entered the room.
"My name is Miss Martin."
The boy flopped his books on a desk, his eyes touching her waist, her hips, then once more to her breasts.
"It's Sister Liz," he said, a smirk carved onto his face. "Right, Harry?"
The other boy, a fat, piggish-looking fellow with billowing red cheeks grumped and shoved an Oreo cookie into his mouth.
"That's right, Ben. Sister Liz. Even looks like one. Funny dress. Can't even see her tits. Hung up, I bet. Like all the rest."
"You don't speak like that in my class," Mary hurled the threat at Harry who had turned back to the half-empty package of cookies.
"Cool it," Ben said, his voice surprisingly mature. He was dark-skinned and wiry, with a faint touch of whiskers beginning to form on his jaws.
"I mean, don't get uptight, Sister Liz. We know all about you. Nun or novice, or whatever. It doesn't matter to us if you don't bullshit us. You get paid for teaching, not bullshitting. Right, Harry?"
Harry turned around, his mouth bulging with cookies. "S'right, Ben. Our parents pay for teaching. Not bullshitting."
"If you two think you can talk like this to ... "
"Hey!" Ben held up his hand and took a step toward her, his young, cocky face alight. "We've all got problems, Sister Liz. I mean, real problems. Like old Harry's dad there's a senator. And my dad's a big, rich lawyer. And they don't care what we do, so long as we don't give them any gas. They would get gas if we went to public school. Yeah, lady, they would get all kinds of gas. But you get paid for taking gas. So don't 'hey' us. And don't get all prudish either."
He paused, looking at her and licking his lips, "And don't think we're the kind to get pushed around. Not even old bald-ass Schooner or Nigger Walton pushes us."
Mary was backing up. The boy was inching toward her, his eyes glinting. Other boys had entered the room and stood in a line, giggling and poking each other in the ribs. Mary was going to scream. She felt tears in her eyes and her fingers going numb. It was all crazy, insane. She was about to yell when Dave Smith's voice came to her rescue.
"All right, gentlemen, into your seats."
The boys at the door scrambled for their places. Ben glanced around, then at Mary and shuffled toward his seat.
"Miss Martin, may I see you a moment," he said, nodding and smiling at the boys who sat perfunctorily still in their seats.
Mary broke down in the hall. She sobbed as Dave Smith put his arms gently around her and said, "There, there." She caught her sobs and noticed the warmth of his touch beginning to pulse through her. She backed away, dabbing at the tears with a Kleenex.
"It was awful. They said some terrible things."
He lifted her chin. She saw the silvery streaks in his hair, and the wisdom in his eyes. He was like Father Lane, a commanding sense of compassion oozing out to squelch the most horrible confession.
"Now, Mary. They're just testing you. You can't let them see you weak. Remember what I said. I said they would be tough. They are headstrong. Very intelligent boys, especially Ben. Ben's much older in ways than his age indicates. They're brash, bullish, vicious and bored. You must be patient and compassionate with them. Once they see that they can't fluster you, your job will be much easier. I know you're brave, Mary. We wouldn't have selected you for this job if we thought less. Now, I want you to conjure up your strength and go in there. Don't show them any weakness. You'll lose if you do. They are still just boys. Always remember that. And boys will be boys. These just happen to be a little more difficult to handle than most."
"But . . . they said some . . . called me ... "
"Block it out. Carry out your assignment. They will do what you tell them, I guarantee that. They will give you a hard time, but they will do what they are told. They know they have to. They're smart. Very smart. They love a challenge. Give them everything you have. They'll respect you. Just don't let them get under your skin. At least, not in the classroom."
He was making sense. She blew her nose. The room was like a testing ground. There were ten vile monsters in there ready to toss stones until she fell. Strength, she thought. Yes, what I need is strength.
"You're right," she said to Smith. "I can handle it. It just came as such a shock. I mean ..."
"Don't bother with apologies, Mary. We understand it's a new experience. Call me if you have any more problems. But avoid it if possible. They must learn you are as tough and businesslike as I am. Okay?"
She nodded, her body pumped now with courage. He touched her cheek gently. "And why don't you wear something more modern tomorrow," he said, "something that wouldn't make the boys harp on the fact that you still look like a nun."
Mary felt a cold wind against her neck. She blinked up at Smith.
"No offense, Mary. But that is very straight and shapeless. I think you know what I mean." He walked off.
Mary moved toward the door. She could hear the boys giggling. An eraser bounced against the glass window she was looking through. Harry's cherubic face glared at her.
Slowly, she opened the door and stepped inside. The boys became still as she walked toward her desk and sat down. A piece of paper was in the middle of the desk. She picked it up and read it quietly to herself.
-- Dear Sister Liz,
I bet that under that straight-laced dress of yours is the softest, squishiest, pinkiest little pussy in town. And right after class I'm going to stick my long hot cock right up your snatch until it comes out your nose.
Sincerity, Ben. --
Mary's throat was dry. She tried not to let them see her hands tremble as she set the paper down on the desk and turned toward Ben.
"You misspelled 'sincerely'" she said very calmly, masking the strange, warm feeling coursing through her confused body.
CHAPTER TWO
Mary fought each second, mentally ducking the comments that came like nasty spears from the boys' tongues. She gave them a writing assignment--forty-five minutes to complete an essay on any subject.
Ben was surprisingly quiet as he wrote. She glanced up at him bent over the paper, working the pencil feverishly, pausing to glance at her, then returning to the prose with that strange smile smeared from ear to ear.
The others made jokes and comments about her body. She noticed they all worked on the papers even as they talked, sometimes their mouths talking as fast as their pens scraped out the words.
"Little tits," came one comment. She tried to close her ears, remembering what Dave Smith had told her. "Betcha she's a virgin."
"Naw, all those nuns fuck!"
"Lezzies, I betcha!"
"Do it in the confessional!"
"Hey, don't knock my religion."
"Screw you, Peter the Short!"
"Hey, don't knock my cock!"
"You don't even have any hair!"
"But I got two inches more than you."
"Hey, she's blushing!"
"Naw, man, she's hot!"
"Bet she's got a chastity belt on!"
"Betcha she's a morphodite."
"Shut up, I'm trying to write ..." The rest of the boys looked over at Ben and fell silent. Mary sighed deeply, thankful that the others seemed to follow Ben's advice. The remaining twenty minutes were quiet, with the exception of Harry's constant munching on the Oreos.
The bell rang and Mary collected the papers. Ben was still writing.
"Are you finished?"
"No."
The boys were filtering out, tossing back final comments as they hurried on to the next class.
Harry was sitting on the edge of his desk, polishing an apple on his blazer sleeve. He took half of the apple with the first bite.
"You're going to be late for your next class," Mary said nervously.
"I have a free period next," Ben said, not looking up from the pile of papers.
"What about you, Harry?"
"P.E. But I don't suit up. Bad ticker," he said in his haughty, high-pitched voice. He picked at some apple skin caught between his teeth.
"I have to go," Mary said, tapping the papers in a pile and opening her valise. "Please give me the paper, Ben."
Ben looked up. "You don't have another class for an hour. What's your rush? I'm trying to express myself."
"I'll bet," Mary said nastily.
"Hey, Teach," Ben answered, shaking his head, "you don't like me, do you?"
Mary was uneasy. She didn't like the look in his eye. Harry's apple crunched noisily.
"I just want to do my job," she said, trying to be cool and indifferent.
Ben made a flurry of scrawls at the bottom of a page and leaned back, shuffling the papers into order.
"There," he said, leaning back and hitting her with his eyes, "it's all finished. Want to know what it's about?"
Mary didn't like the sound of his voice. "No. I'll read it and mark it with my comments," she said stiffly. "Please, give me the paper."
Ben snatched up his papers and went to the door, closing it behind him. "I think I should tell you about it, Teach. It's all about this sexy nun who has the hots for this guy named Ben."
"I don't want to hear it," Mary stammered, the room becoming uncomfortably warm.
"He wants you to hear it," Harry said, slipping off his green blazer and folding it neatly on the chair. Mary screwed up her courage. She felt weak, ill. She was sure they were up to something. Ben was blocking the door, taking off his blazer.
"You see, Sister Liz," Ben continued, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, "this nun gets the hots for this kid. He's only thirteen. And she thinks he's a stud because for a young kid he's got a nice long cock. And this nun's been all locked up in a convent. And she does all these perverted things with Fathers and Sisters. And then she runs away. And she can't keep her hands off young boys, see. She just creams her panties when she sees one. And so she gets this young stud named Ben. And she takes off his pants and plays with his pecker."
Mary was frozen behind the desk, her eyes growing large as saucers as Ben stripped off his shirt and began working his belt loose.
"Yeah," Harry said, rolling off his shirt.
"I'll scream," Mary warned. "The janitor will come. Mister Smith will come."
Ben laughed. "Room's soundproof, Sister Liz. Can't hear a thing. Besides, nobody's gonna hurt you. Right, Harry?"
Harry pushed his pants down. His face was puffed, cheeks a bright pink, eyes half-slitted. She could see rolls of youthful flesh around his stomach where his tight white jockey shorts kept his full nakedness from her view.
Ben pulled off his pants. He was slim, hairless, his skin a natural dark tone. She guessed him to be of Italian or Greek ancestry.
"You wouldn't," Mary said, backing toward the windows. She turned, looking for a way to open them. The handles were all on the upper of three levels of glass, far beyond her reach.
"You see," Ben continued, moving toward her, "these two guys, Ben and Harry, were attacked by this nun on her first day. And she raped both of them. Poor kids, couldn't fight her off. She tried to tell the police she was raped, but nobody believed her. I mean, a senator's son and a famous lawyer's son. And her background--well, this is weird. You know."
"Y-y-you're kidding . . . you ju-just want to scare me ... "
"Yeah," Harry said, pushing off his jockey shorts. Mary's eyes soaked in his small penis. It was half-rigid, a small finger rising up from the two round sacs that looked like his puffed cheeks.
Ben was talking. "But this teacher, see, she didn't tell anyone. She knew what would happen. She knew that she would go to jail. And nobody would get hurt. Heck, the teacher liked it when it was all over. I mean, she dug it."
He pushed his pants off. She put her hand to her mouth. His penis was longer, perhaps four inches. It stood rigid, the foreskin peeled back over the tip so that its shiny surface stared at her like an eye. There was a touch of dark pubic hairs beginning to form around the balls and top.
"Please," Mary said, moving back toward the windows, "I promise I won't say one word to anybody if you get dressed this minute and leave. I won't tell anyone."
Ben laughed. "'Course you won't. Who'd believe you? Besides, we're just pretending. Right, Harry?"
"Right, Ben," Harry said, his high-pitched voice growing deeper, more bass.
Mary felt them closing. They kept the door between them.
"If you touch me, I'll fight. I'm stronger," she hissed, her mouth peeling back angrily.
Harry grabbed his pants and fished into the pocket. He held something shiny in his hand as he moved back toward her.
"You wouldn't hurt us, would you?" he said. She heard a sharp "click". The glinting blade of a knife stabbed out of his pudgy hand.
"He'd cut you," Ben whispered, moving a desk out of the way. "He'd cut your tits off. Harry's like that. I wouldn't let him. I'd let him cut off your clit."
Harry laughed.
Mary felt the wall meet her back. She stood shaking, her mouth dry, her chest heaving. Fear, anger and humiliation raged through her. She saw something evil in Harry's eyes. It wasn't just a threat.
"Don't," she whined. "Please, for God's sake, don't do it."
They were an arm's length away. She could see Harry's fat face glaring at her. He was breathing heavily, one hand holding the knife, the other toying with his penis. He could barely grab the appendage with his thumb and forefinger. She watched him pull on it, stretching it up away from his roly-poly stomach.
"Take your clothes off," Ben said, his voice raspy, the pink tip of his tongue dancing out to wet his dry lips.
"I can't," Mary whimpered, biting her lip, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. "God, don't. Please, don't touch me."
Harry jabbed the knife toward her. She jumped, her heart stopping for an instant as the blade whizzed near her chest.
"Strip!" he commanded.
"I ... I can't!" she cried, her hands shaking, her knees wobbly.
"Easy, Harry," Ben said, stepping forward and reaching up for the buttons. She felt his hands near her throat, undoing one button, then another. He was shorter by four inches and, she guessed, weighed no more than she, one hundred eleven pounds. But it didn't matter. He could have been ten feet tall and weighed a million pounds. The knife made the difference.
"Don't," she pleaded, her hands like two icy bars dangling at her sides. "Please don't touch me."
His hands pressed against her tits. They were small hands, hungry hands. The fingers dug into her breast flesh, squeezing and kneading. She felt nothing.
"Hurry, Ben. I can't wait much longer!"
"Shut up!"
Mary squeezed her eyes shut. She felt faint.
Blood drained from her head, making her weave dangerously.
"She's gonna crash, Ben!"
"Naw!"
Mary felt the stinging blow catch her left cheek. She snapped back to consciousness. Ben reared back again, his palm open, ready to smack her face again.
"You don't faint on us, Sister Liz. You hear?"
Harry pranced behind Ben, his tiny hard penis bobbing up and down. "Hurry, man. Hurry!"
Mary's tears spilled freely down her face. She stood sobbing, her body racked with painful anticipation. The top of her dress was completely opened, exposing the slip.
Ben reached up and slid the dress off her shaking shoulders. It slithered down, catching for an instant on her hips, then fell into a soft pile at her feet.
"Damn. Look at that. Nice, huh, Ben!"
Ben's hands shook, too. He reached up again and tugged at the slip straps, working them down her shoulders and arms, past her hips.
"Christ!" Harry moaned, his voice climbing back up to its falsetto level. "Cheeeerriisst!"
Mary felt Ben's breath near her breasts. His hands slid over her tittie flesh, touching the sharp cleavage, cupping the mounds and squeezing.
"Let me cop a feel, man!"
"Later," Ben barked.
"Now, man. I'm gonna come."
"Later!" he snapped.
Mary winced. Ben's hands were sliding over her naked stomach. She couldn't open her eyes. Her hands were two tiny fists, the knuckles white, pressed marbles standing erect.
"Don't touch me," she moaned as his fingers slid over the smooth nylon, diving down into the rich, warm nest of her cunt.
Cold slivers sliced through her. Her hair stiffened. Every pore seemed to open its mouth, exposing her to the slightest whisper of Ben's breath.
His hands were fumbling behind her back, working the bra loose. She felt it giving way. The heavy fruit of her tits spilled out of the cups.
"Damn nice nipples!" Harry moaned. "Look how red and cherry, man! Look at the tips. God, standing out there like hard-ons!"
"You're nicer than I guessed, Teach," Ben said, his voice husky. She felt his lips press against one of her nipples. Teeth mashed down, gently rolling the hard nubbin back and forth.
"Let me suck one, Ben? Huh?"
"I'll let you eat her, Harry. How about that?"
Harry let out a squeal. Mary's stomach knotted. She felt sick. She tried to silently repeat the rosary, to expel the madness from her mind.
Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with . . . "Ahhhhh ..."
She let out the cry as Ben's fingers pinched her clitoris. It was a sharp, startling pain that bit into her as his thumb and forefinger skidded around the soft, pliable button.
He slid her panties down. She shivered, her body drenched with tiny goosebumps as Ben's hands began to roam over her. They touched her tits, her back, her tummy, her ass, her thighs, her cunt, her anus, her throat, her lips. Each time she yelled the rosary louder in her brain: Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord. . .
But each time the words became more jumbled as his hands ignited her flesh and turned the icy fear into a warm apprehension.
"Eat her, Harry," Ben said, pushing her back so that her buttocks were sitting on the low shelf in the back of the room.
She opened her eyes, her mouth wet with tears, her lip gnawed and sore from biting hard. Harry handed Ben the knife and was moving toward her thighs which Ben held spread.
She tried to wriggle away, but Ben pressed the sharp tip of the knife against her nipple.
"Harry's hungry," he said as the shorter, rotund boy lowered his head and drove forward.
She threw back her head and let out a whine as Harry's nose touched her snatch. The button tip brushed it at first, parting the lips that Ben had teased moments before. She repeated the prayer, helplessly fighting the strange, burning sensation in her groin.
"Lick it, Harry! I want it all wet and slick!"
A warm, wet worm snaked out and wedged itself between her cuntlips. At first she sat there, her brain bludgeoned by fear and futility. But as the tongue began to weave in drunken circles, she felt her muscles spasming, the puffy sides of her labia closing around it, trying to capture it as it moved deeper and deeper into her.
Time was suspended on a long silken thread. Her body was blinded by the strange violation that paralyzed her. She felt tiny needles stabbing at her clit, sending a mixture of pleasure and pain to her brain.
"Pleeeezzeee, don't ..."
Harry's tongue was burrowing deeper. She switched her hips to expel him, but it only seemed to let him in farther. Her hands reached out, grabbing the thick pile of hair, pushing at his temples.
Weak, her hands robbed of strength, she felt the resistance fade. A wild image of Mother Superior and Hilda flashed across her brain. She saw the two women's mouths bearing down on thighs, tongues wagging, eyes glazed. Her head lolled, eyes pinched, nose collapsing as she tried to suck in much needed air.
"Eat it, Harry," Ben was urging, his voice cutting through the maddening sounds of Harry's sucking, slurping lips.
She wrestled her hips from side to side, Harry firmly planted between them. He lifted her thighs and set them on his rounded shoulders, his small, thick arms hooking around to hold them in place as his tongue lashed around her quim.
The tongue drew out, fluttering over her clitoris, making her head swim. She didn't want to know the feeling. It was becoming overpowering.
Hail Mary full of. . .
Soft, warm bells began to toll. She was swathed in a sudden blanket of tepid fluids trickling into a pool somewhere in her mind. She could hear her throaty objections spilling out, but knew that inside her body another thirst was growing.
"Eat her, Harry! Eat her inside out!"
Mary's hips hunched up. Her nails clawed into the back of Harry's head. No longer could her strained muscles fight. She was rocking on the brink of the ledge, her legs pushed up so that her slit was spread wide, exposing the fresh pink folds of her cunt.
The young boy's tongue lashed over the puffy lips, the tip curling as it dragged its way out of her tight canal. She shivered, her body twitching and jerking to his attentions.
"She's gonna come," Ben said. "Man, she's gonna come!"
It was too late. Mary could feel the drippings forming a huge lake in her womb. The weak dam was cracking. Her legs began to scissor along the boy's temples, squeezing and jerking as her orgasm grew nearer.
"Tongue-fuck her," Ben chanted. "Tongue-fuck her!"
Little Harry's tongue machine-gunned into her. Its stiff tip rammed against her hymen. She clutched him, her breasts stiff spikes of passion slashing wildly as she lurched at him.
"GAAAAHHHHH . . . !"
Her cry ripped out of her throat. She snapped her thighs tightly together, almost crushing Harry's head. The dam burst. She was lifted off earth, flung down the endless halls of white, fleecy space. Her body floated for an instant in the liquid of sexual space, then began to plunge back to earth as she felt herself being pushed down onto the counter top.
"Like I said, Sister Liz," Ben was murmuring, "I'm gonna fuck you till my cock comes out your nose."
CHAPTER THREE
Mary lay sobbing as Ben climbed onto the narrow counter. He spread her legs, taking his small prick between his fingers and guiding it toward her sodden pussy.
"God help you," she hissed, her body empty of fight. Harry stood near her head, the knife in his hand, his mouth smeared with the wet, slick juices of her cunt. She stared at him, a mixture of loathing and peculiar affinity overcoming her.
"Boy, were you good," Harry said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Mary turned away, her stomach roiling, a deep, sad emptiness coming over her. Ben's cock touched her damp slot. She tensed, a new fear racing through her as she felt the head of the boy's cock trying to enter her.
"You got nice tits," Ben said, reaching for her mounds. Her body tensed as his hands closed around her mounds. The aftermath of Harry's obscene violation still hung in a heavy shroud over her brain. Ben's fingers, closing firmly around her still-hard nipples, rekindled the strange fires.
"Please, don't touch me," she pleaded, trying to move his hands away. Harry tickled her throat with the tip of the knife.
"Hey, Teach. You just lay there and come. Ben's good. Real good." Harry laughed.
Mary's cunt was too ripe to resist. The boy's prick slipped into the tepid notch. She groaned. It was small, but even so she felt the sides of her cunny stretching to let it in. Ben began to hunch slowly into her, his hands milking her breasts, teasing the bright, cherry-red nipples until they stood stiffly erect.
Mary's body was limp at first. The prick worked its way farther into her. It was different from the tongue. Its consistency was firmer, its direction more defined. She felt it twitch inside her, the small head scraping over the roughened tissues. Her hips jerked spastically as the little head pressed against her hymen.
"Tight pussy, Teach," Ben grunted, his lips covering her mouth, his tongue licking at her teeth. She turned her head, spurning his contact.
"Kiss me, Teach. French kiss me!"
"Yeah," Harry said excitedly, sticking the knife tip against her neck. "Kiss him, Teach. Kiss him with your tongue."
Against her will, she let him kiss her on the mouth. His tongue pried through her lips, entering her mouth. The lance met hers, teasing it, lifting it up and switching back and forth until she was forced to respond.
Harry's hands were on her breasts, too. She could feel his pudgy fingers working between their two bodies. He was panting in her ear, his tongue lapping around the conical indentation.
Between her legs, Ben's hips thrust deeply now. The head of his small, thin lance jabbed at her hymen. She threw up her hips, fighting the pain that was growing more intense. Her clitoris was raw, the underside of the boy's prick sawing over it. Again, she could feel the maddening drippings starting to form somewhere in her womb. Her heart tripped frantically. The spikes of her breasts drove up against Ben's smooth chest. She unconsciously slipped her arms around the boy's body, pulling him close to put out the terrible fire that was raging over her flesh.
His mouth was planted on her right tit, the teeth scraping over the hardened nipple, sucking it back onto the flat of his tongue. She dug her nails into his back, hunching her hips and shifting her weight as his thin boyish hips began to bounce wildly between her legs. He jabbed violently. The hymen burst. She let out a cry as the pain stabbed through her, only to be squelched by a more powerful desire to expel her fluids.
Ben was rasping out words she couldn't hear. All she wanted was to explode. Every nerve was stripped bare, teased by the small saber that Ben was hurling into her cunny.
"Ahhhhh ..."
Ben's cry was jerky. His hips snapped against her pubis. He rabbit-hunched his way into her; then his body went stiff and she felt the burning hot liquid shooting into her. She hurried, throwing her hips up at him, trying to make her own body release its madness. But Ben's tiny prick was growing soft. She tried to squeeze it with her muscles, only to have it slip out of her snatch.
"No," she moaned, thrashing her hips, her body cheated of its final debasement.
Ben leaped off the counter. Harry's hot little hands slipped from her breasts.
"Please," she said, looking at them both with pleading eyes. "Please don't stop now ..."
Both boys' faces were puzzled. They backed away, staring at her. She lay on the counter, her hips still hunching toward some invisible mate, the thin pink tip of her tongue hanging from the corner of her mouth.
"Finish it," she moaned. "Finish it!"
Harry and Ben said nothing. They backed toward their clothes and watched as her fingers slid down over her stomach toward the hot nest of her quim.
"Jesus," Harry said aloud, watching her plunge her fingers into the sticky mush of her snatch.
Mary was oblivious. Her only purpose in life was to stop the burning, to drown the demons that stabbed at her with the tiny forks of passion. She threw her legs into the air, plunging two fingers into her cunt, crying out as she shuddered through the turbulent storm of her orgasm.
Turning, her face meeting those of the two amazed boys, she saw their pricks. Harry's was limp, the little foreskin back in place over the pink head. Ben's was still a little hard, its head showing as the foreskin was only partly covering the slit. Their mouths were agape. Ben's eyes were crossed with amazement and fear.
"Let's go," Ben said, grabbing his shorts and wriggling into them. Harry followed. She watched them dress, always glancing at her to see what she was going to do. She swung her legs over the edge of the counter and stared, her large blue eyes saucers, her lips pressed firmly together.
"You remember what I said," Ben blurted. "You tell anyone and I'll say you raped us."
But strangely, his voice wasn't as convincing as it had been earlier. He waited for an answer. Then Harry spoke up. "And me, too. They'll believe us. Don't you start any trouble."
Mary said nothing. She picked her clothes up and turned away, slowly fitting her scratched and bruised breasts into the bra cups, working the panties up her long, slender thighs to cover the wet, soggy mound of her cunt. She heard their final warning before the door slammed shut.
"You'll go to jail if you try and squeal on us. Our fathers will have you in jail. You remember that."
Dressed, Mary took some Kleenex from her purse and wiped the counter clean. Then she collected the papers on her desk, put them in the valise and moved out into the hall toward Dave Smith's office.
* * *
Maureen Powers was a small, petite woman in her early thirties. Her hair was swept back from one side and pinned so that it fell fully over her right shoulder. She was blessed with sharp, angular tits that spread up against the smart dress, making her figure look like some delicate carving. She had large brown eyes and a smooth, milky complexion.
"Hi, Mary, isn't it? I'm Maureen. Most people call me Mo."
Mary stood dumbly in front of Mo's desk. "Is Mister Smith in? I have to talk with him."
"Gee, not right now. He'll be back in about a half-hour. Want to wait?"
Mary nodded and sat stiffly on the couch in the reception room.
"You look beat. How about some coffee?"
"No thanks."
Mo looked at the younger woman and poured her a cup of coffee anyway. She placed it in Mary's hand, noting that her fingers were shaking.
"You sure you're all right?"
Mary nodded.
Mo studied her. She had light, strawberry-blonde hair, cropped very short and pulled back so that her sharp features and high cheekbones accentuated her natural beauty. Her neck was thin, set delicately on her sloping shoulders that were hidden by the heavy, shapeless dress she wore. But Mo could see the faint outline of a fantastic figure, and was even more sure of it by the sight of her tapered legs.
There was something strange about her, though, something in her eyes. She looked like a light that had just burned out, the bulb all dark and eerie.
The phone rang. Mo answered it, mentioned Mary's name and cradled it.
"Sorry, Mary. That was Mister Smith. He won't be in until late this afternoon. Look, why don't I take you home? You look like you're going to pass out any minute."
Mary couldn't stand it. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, her body convulsing as she thought about the vicious attack by the two boys.
"Want to talk about it?"
Mary shook her head.
"Let me take you home," Mo said, slipping her arm around Mary, her fingers lightly brushing the thick swell of the woman's breasts. "Yes, let me take you home!" she said heavily.
* * *
"My place is closer," Mo said, whipping the Mustang into the parking slot. She helped Mary out of the car, leading her through the neat, deluxe garden-apartment complex. The room was dark. Mo cracked the drapes, letting in a thin shaft of light, and guided Mary to the thick, rich couch.
"You need a drink," Mo said, rattling some ice into two glasses. "Have a preference?"
"I don't drink."
Mo poured two gin and tonics and handed one to Mary. "Now you do."
Mary tasted the liquid. It was cold, soothing. Her throat was sore, and the liquor seemed medicinal as it spilled back over her tongue and burned its way into her stomach.
"You want to talk about it?" Mo curled up beside her, tucking her smooth legs under her. She wore a very short dress that revealed a great expanse of her thighs. The skirt nipped around her tiny waist, making her jutting breasts seem to loom out at Mary.
"I just... I can't... I mean ..."
"Drink up," Mo urged, reaching for the back of Mary's head. She stroked her gently. "I know how the first day is. Those little bastards can be cruel. Filthy rich and filthy spoiled."
"It was ..." Mary paused, gulping at the drink. The glass drained, Mo pried it from her hand and refilled it.
"I hope you don't think I'm prying, but I know all about your past. It's part of my job. Personnel records. I want you to know I've been there, too. I mean, coming out of the cloistered world into this. I know it's tough."
"You?" Mary was puzzled.
Mo nodded. "I guess it won't hurt to tell you. I was a novice, too. A couple of years ago. I couldn't hack it. You know, the denial. The sacrifice. The . . . loneliness."
"You were a novice?"
Mo stood and stretched. Mary's eyes were riveted on the smaller woman's figure. It was beyond her comprehension that she could have been a nun. She was all too sexy-looking, with those eyes that curved up at the corners like a cat's. With those long, sculptured fingers and the rich, sensuous mouth that was painted a deep, hot pink.
"I guess it was maybe ten years ago now. I was confused. I wanted to serve. I was hung up. Thought I could get untied by God. Didn't work."
She was at the bar, splashing some fresh gin over the ice. Her hair was silky, shifting like a flowing sheet of silk along her shoulder when she moved.
"But look, Mary. Tell me what's troubling you. I want to help. I want to be your friend. We all do. We want you to be happy here."
Mary felt the gin biting at her brain. She relaxed, her hands steady now, her mouth softer. She was turning over the experience, wondering how to relate it. She had a feeling the boys' threats weren't idle. What bothered her was going back to the classroom. How could she face them again? How could she face herself? She had liked it. Some of it. The Devil had entered her body. The Devil had possessed her for those few, erotic seconds that made her body lust after the boys' touch.
"I can't tell you," Mary said. "I can't. I'm afraid."
"Of the boys?"
Mary began to sob. She clutched her sides, leaning forward, letting the tears spill freely.
"Did you sin with the boys, Mary?"
"No, I . . . " The question sank in. Mary looked up, brushing the tears from her eyes. Mo was very close, her eyes drilling through the few inches that separated them.
"I didn't... I didn't sin, Mo. I didn't want them to do . . . but they said they would ..."
"You liked it, though, didn't you? Some of it?"
Mary shook her head. "No! No! It was terrible."
But even as she spoke, she felt the lie catching in her throat. She had liked some of it. Some of it she had loved. Like biting down on an aching tooth, she had savored the painful pleasure of their violation.
"Don't feel dirty, Mary," Mo was saying, her small hand stroking Mary's hair. "Sex isn't dirty. Sex is ... " Her voice grew deep and husky. "Sex is what the world is all about. Sex is what gave me the real Truth. About myself. About the world. You need it. You need it now more than any time."
Mo was leaning dangerously close. Her tongue danced out, dusting her thick lower lip. Mary's heart beat faster. The soft diffused light shafting through the window cast the room with a subtle sensuality. She felt her nipples stiffening.
"Please, don't look at me like that," Mary pleaded, a resurgence of lust growing inside her.
"You're so gentle, Mary," Mo said, her hands sliding down Mary's neck, resting on the uplift of her breast. "We're peas in a pod. We're Sisters, Mary. Hold me! Hold me?"
Mary hesitated. Mo's eyes were wet saucers staring at her. The eyes rolled like heavy weights in a viscous pool. A strange electricity sparked between them as Mo's arms pulled Mary close.
"Ahhh, that's it," Mo said, burying her face into Mary's shoulder. She felt the woman's lip touch her bare neck. Shivers shot up from the base of her spine, crawling crazily toward her brain.
"Hold me, too," Mo requested, taking Mary's arms and placing them around her. Mary felt lifeless. Her heart was pounding, her fingers numb.
"Oh, Mary. Isn't that better? Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to fear. Kiss me, Mary. Kiss "I can't," Mary said, trying to struggle away. Mo's arms held her fast.
"Mary, I need to feel your flesh against mine. How do you think I love? I love you, Mary. Not just your spirit. I love your flesh. Forget the boys. Kiss me? Just once? Just once, Mary?"
Her pleading voice struck at Mary. She stopped struggling, telling herself that she would kiss her once. Then she would leave. She would leave forever. She would go somewhere else and start again.
Mo's mouth was turned up. Her eyes slitted, mouth parting to reveal the glistening white teeth that bordered the pink patch of tongue.
Gently their lips met. Mo's mouth opened wider, her tongue working out to tease the warm, wet skin of Mary's lips. Mary felt Mo's spiking breasts rub against her own. Mo's hand worked down her side, cupping her tit, softly squeezing it. The hand worked down from the breast to her thigh, the fingers sliding down the dress, inching under the hem and teasing back up the long path of her thighs.
Their bodies were melting together as Mo nudged her down on the couch, her hand now up high on her thigh, the fingers working more and more excitedly until they brushed the hot, damp crotch of Mary's panties.
"Stop," Mary hissed, breaking the kiss and trying to remove Mo's hand.
"I can't," Mo moaned, her fingers sawing at Mary's cunt. "God help me, I can't!"
"Mo, please? You're hurting me!"
"Love me?" Mo repeated, her mouth crushing down on Mary's, her tongue licking out hungrily, stabbing into Mary's mouth. Mary tried to wrestle free. The liquor fogged her brain, making her movements weak and frustrated. Mo was writhing on top of her, wedging her way between her thighs, working frantically to slide her fingers under the elastic crotch of the panties.
"Mo, please. Please don't ..."
Mary rustled up a burst of strength, twisting and wrenching herself. Mo clung tightly, her breath ragged, her tongue licking now at Mary's ear.
Mary fell back, chest heaving, helplessly trapped by the two drinks and the fatigue of her earlier battle. She lay still as Mo fumbled with the buttons.
"I'll be gentle, Mary. Not like those heathen boys. I'll love you like a woman should be loved. It's not dirty, Mary. It's not sin."
Mary stared at the ceiling. It spun slowly, like her life, unable to go in any one direction. She felt her bra being stripped away, and her panties following.
"God, you're beautiful," Mo said, stripping off her dress and underclothes. "Beautiful tits. Round. Firm. Hot tips."
Mary looked at the naked woman. Her breasts jutted out like two perfectly shaped slopes. A deep, dark nipple was driven through the center of each milky mound like a spike. Her supple hips billowed out, then curved rapidly to her slim thighs.
Mo knelt beside the couch, her hands brushing lightly over Mary's skin, teasing it. "You like that? Does that turn you on?"
Mary lay still, body rigid, eyes filled with hatred. She pressed her lips tightly together, as though this helpless act might protect her from the future.
"Such nice tits," Mo cooed, cupping a mound and rolling the distended nipple into a hard ball with her thumb and forefinger. She placed her hot lips on the tip, lightly grazing it with her teeth.
Mary shifted. She tried to block everything from her mind . . . everything but a prayer: Dear God Almighty, Protector of Heaven and Earth, come to me in this, my greatest hour of need. Give me the strength to thwart mine enemies, and the desire to conquer all Evil that lingers about me.
Mo's hands worked again toward Mary's snatch. The delicate fingers slid through the pubic hair, touching the light button of Mary's clit. Mary moaned, fighting the growing ball of passion swelling in her stomach.
"You'll like it with me, much better than with the boys," she was saying, her lips tracking down Mary's stomach toward the damp slot of her pussy.
"I'm gentle," Mo insisted, her tongue licking out, swiping at Mary's thighs. Mary tried to hold them shut, but Mo's firm hands pried them apart. "Ah, sweet red meat," Mo wheezed, her fingers parting the folds of Mary's cunt, splitting the two lips apart.
"Ahhhhh ..." The sound boiled out of Mary's guts as Mo's tongue waltzed through the splayed pussy. Again she cried out as the tongue worked its way around the orifice, fluttering and rolling her clitoris from one side to the other.
"Please, I beg you ..." Mary tried hopelessly to get Mo to stop. Instead, the girl continued, her tongue working deeper and deeper, her body slithering up until it lay atop Mary's.
Mary turned. Mo's twat was pointed at her face. The girl was on her knees, sucking and rocking back, presenting the hair-lined pink slot for Mary's inspection.
"Kiss me," Mo said, lifting her head from Mary's crotch. "Lick my cunt!"
Mary twisted her head from side to side. Mo squatted down, shoving her snatch in Mary's face. Mary spluttered, trying to twist away, but each time she moved, her mouth seemed to graze the lips of Mo's hot cunny.
"Lick it! Lick it!"
The words were staccato beats against Mary's ears. Her body was raging. Mo's tongue was lighting the dark, erotic corners of her mind. She felt her hips start to gyrate, grinding this way and that to help Mo's hungry tongue. Her ears buzzed. Her nose was crushed under Mo's weight as the woman hunched back, squishing her snatch in Mary's face.
Body tortured, mind boggled, Mary's hands went up to push Mo's buttocks away. She felt the cool flesh against her palms and saw the pink portals of the pussy waiting for her.
Her mouth was dry. A strange, fiery warmth swept over her as Mo slowly lowered herself onto Mary's face. Mary's lips parted. Her tongue inched out experimentally, as though it were being controlled by something other than her brain. She felt it stretching, reaching out to taste the forbidden fruit.
The scene of Hilda and Mother Superior darted across her mind. She recalled the sucking, slurping sounds of the two women's mouths. She jabbed the tongue forward. It touched the wet, pudding-like opening of Mo's quim. Again she licked out, her tongue savoring the sour-sweetness of the other woman.
"Deeper! Deeper!"
Her arms slid up under Mo's thighs, fingers digging into the handholds of her ass. She placed her mouth full over Mo's slit and began to suck and drive her tongue deep into Mo's inner warmth.
Her own body was beyond stopping. Hips flying up, she jammed her pubis into Mo's face. Toes curled, back arched, she sucked heavily of Mo's dripping cunt and felt herself being lifted high above the thunderstorm of passion, flung endlessly down the deep hall of erotic space.
"Come! Come! COME!"
The words splintered against her brain as Mo's hips lurched into her mouth. Hot, dropping juices flowed, oozing down the sides of her mouth as they both fell exhausted against one another.
"You liked it, didn't you?" Mo lit a cigarette, eyes steadily watching Mary's face.
Mary sat staring into space. All she could see was two boys, one rather fat, the other thin. They were naked, their pricks hard and foreskins peeling back to reveal their youthful sheaths.
"You liked it, didn't you?" Mo repeated.
Mary felt sick. She put her clothes on very slowly, saying nothing.
"What are you going to do?" Mo asked, smashing the half-finished cigarette into an ashtray. "You gonna go confess? You gonna go cry? You gonna go look for happiness somewhere else? It's here, baby," she said, her voice growing angry. "Right here!"
Mary looked at her. She was pointing at her cunt.
"That's right. Sex is Heaven, Sister Liz. An orgasm is God. So don't be so fucking righteous. And don't look at me that way. You hear? You hear?"
Mary said nothing as she started for the door. She knew what she must do. She knew it was her job, her mission in life to follow. She must teach those boys that there was something more than sex. Yes, she must teach them about God. About love more powerful than sex.
"I'm all right," she said, turning the door handle. "I feel sorry for you."
Mo bristled. "You wait and see, bitch. You wait and see who's got it all together."
Mary smiled. She knew what must be done. She must work with the boys. She must teach them the light. They must learn the Word.
"Good-bye," Mary said, closing the door behind her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mary apologized to Bob Walton. "I just felt so ill," she said, thanking him again for covering her class. "I had Maureen drive me home. Then I felt better."
Walton's ebony face gleamed brightly. She felt his eyes on her, studying her as though she were some interesting speck that had happened into his vision.
"You look a mess. Have you been crying?"
"Oh no," she lied, forcing herself to smile. "No, it was just kind of hard to get started. I mean, the class wasn't what I had expected ..."
"You need a hot soul dinner. Sound good?"
"Well, I..."
"I did you a favor. Why not come over to my place tonight for supper? We can talk about school and give you a chance to relax."
"Thanks, Bob. But... I mean ..."
"You mean yes," he said emphatically, his heavy, dark hand reaching out and lightly touching her shoulder. "We'd go out, but I have to keep close to home. My kid brother's been having some problems. He might give me a call. And my older sister's pregnant and due any day now. Husband's over in Viet Nam. If you can stand all that sociological crap, I'll whip you up the most inviting meal you've ever had."
"All right," she said, nodding, noticing that his fingers were holding her shoulder firmly.
"Good, here's the address." He scribbled some hurried directions. "Don't worry about the neighborhood. Just don't drive with your windows down and your doors unlocked."
Mary looked puzzled.
Walton laughed. "Hey, if anybody hassles you, tell them you're with Walton. But don't worry. The way you're dressed they won't even take a second look."
Mary's mouth was hinged open as he wheeled and stalked down the hall, his thick shoulders and muscular frame disappearing into the main study hall.
Mary looked at her clothes. They were drab, lifeless threads hanging carelessly over her body. That was twice, she thought, twice today that someone had mentioned how unattractive her dress was.
Well, it really didn't matter, she thought, catching sight of Harry and Ben leaving the boys' toilet. She had more important things to do. She had to make those two boys aware of their sins. They must repent for the wrong; they must be steered back on the right road.
Clicking down the hall, she caught up with them. "Boys!"
The two turned, faces curious, anxious. Harry wiped his lips and stepped back, leaving Ben to brunt whatever she was about to hurl.
"I haven't told anyone yet about what you did today," she said, forcing her voice to be cool and stern. "And I don't want either of you to think for one minute that you've gotten away with anything."
Ben jammed his hands in his pockets and cocked his head. "So what are you gonna do, turn us in to God?"
Harry snickered.
"Don't be blasphemous. You're going to listen to me. You're going to hear what I have to say. You're going to learn something about morality."
Ben shrugged. "You gonna sprinkle it over our Frankenberrys?" Again Harry sniggered, popping a piece of beef jerky into his mouth. His eyes were two large blue orbs peering expectantly toward Mary.
"Now, I want you both to meet me in front of the school tomorrow after classes. If you don't show up, I will tell your parents. And I don't care how much you lie. I've already decided to take a lie detector test if necessary. I can't allow you two .to get away with what you've done."
Ben pursed his lips angrily. Then he rubbed the back of his neck, the hostile look fading into a smile.
"Can you do it at my house? I mean, why hide? You gonna read us the Bible and all that?"
Harry's eyes crunched into slits. He stabbed Ben with an elbow. "Hey, you gonna let her blackmail us? She ain't gonna tell."
"Isn't," Mary corrected.
Ben swatted Harry's elbow away, his face masked with seriousness. "Really, Miss Martin," he said gently, "I think it would be a good idea. You come to my parents' house. We'll all talk. Get it out in the open. Tomorrow. After school. Okay?"
Harry tugged at Ben's jacket. "But, Ben, you know ..."
"Shut up, Harry!" Ben's sharp voice smothered the rest of Harry's statement.
"That's a fine step," Mary said. She was elated.
It had been easier than she expected. The boys were already admitting the wrong. That was the first big leap, and now they even wanted their parents to know. "I'll be there."
"Look up the address in the phone book," Ben said. He grabbed Harry by the arm and hurried away, whispering something into Harry's ear and giggling softly.
* * *
The streets were crowded with cars and kids as she weaved through the predominantly black neighborhood. As instructed, she kept her windows and doors locked, trying to look as though she wasn't disturbed. But inside she felt a strange fear of being out of place with her blonde hair and light complexion.
She slid the car to a halt in front of Walton's house. Three black youths hung on the white picket fence glaring at her as she stepped from the car. Moving uneasily, she forced a smile as she neared them. They had expressionless eyes. One picked at his teeth with the sharp tip of a knife. Another, no more than ten, she guessed, and very skinny, sucked heavily on what she was sure was a marijuana cigarette.
"You gotta nice set of wheels, lady," the older boy, about thirteen, said, moving to block her way. She stopped, her fingers closing around her handbag.
"Thanks," she said. "May I go in?"
"Pooo-lite," said the younger skinny boy. "White sister's is so poooo-lite."
"Being courteous never hurt anybody," Mary said, feeling the boys' eyes on her dress. She was uncomfortable in it. It was much too short and revealing. The material was thin, filmy. She was sure her panties could be seen through it, and her bra. But Bob and the others had almost forced her into wearing something feminine. She felt half-naked in the low-cut top, the one the salesgirl said looked best on her. She wasn't so sure. The tops of her breasts seemed to want to spill out, and regardless of what the salesgirl said, she refused to go braless.
"I bet you're gonna have one of old Bobby W's soul suppers."
Mary slitted her eyes at the older boy. "I might," she said, her privacy suddenly transgressed. How did he know? she thought.
"I bet that ain't all you're gonna git, shugah."
"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean," she said sternly, the purse clutched more tightly to her tits now. "I'm going into Mister Walton's house now. Do you mind, or must I yell for him?"
"Threats," the skinny one said, flicking the smoldering joint at her feet. "Everybody carries a rod on the tip of their tongue. Sheeiiit."
He hopped off the fence. The older boy, his high, kinky Afro swelling like a beehive above his head, stepped away from the gate.
"Ole Bobby W's not nearly as good a stud as me, little white sister. So if you doesn't get all you wants, you just holler for ole Henry. An' ole Henry'll come finish what was started."
Mary pushed through the gate, not bothering to answer. She was halfway up the walk when the screen door opened and Bob stood, his broad shoulders and rich black face a thankful sight.
"They bother you?" He nodded toward the boys.
"No. Not really."
"Punks. Don't know why Henry hangs around with them."
"Henry?"
Walton smiled at her. "My kid brother. The one who's always getting in trouble. Come on in."
She glanced back. The boys were shuffling down the street, talking loudly, throwing back their heads and laughing. She followed Bob inside.
Like the exterior, the house was warm and cheerful. The walls were painted a series of bright, graphic colors. A fake leopard-skin rug hung in the center of the room. Black statues and art pieces were carefully placed around the room that bespoke of pure bachelorhood. Lights were dimmed. The objects all very masculine. She noticed the table set plainly-a red checkerboard cloth, some simple plates and a maze of warming dishes steaming.
"We can eat any time. Everything's ready. The longer it stews, the better it gets. What do you want to drink?"
"Coke, please."
"Coke?" Bob's face screwed up. "I think maybe I'll fix you something else." He disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with two drinks.
"Here." He pressed the glass into her hand. "Go ahead, it's not poison. Taste it."
She touched it to her lips, swallowing gently. It was refreshing. "Tastes like tomato juice." She tasted it again, this time not hesitating about the amount. "And tabasco. And pepper. Salt."
"And Vodka. They call it a Bloody Mary, no aspersions on you, Mary!"
Mary grew red, following him to the living room. He offered her a seat on the couch and took up a position in a deep leather chair across from her.
"You look absolutely delicious tonight," he said, his eyes falling on the exposed tops of her tits. He worked his way down the low-cut dress to the short hem that rode halfway up her thighs, revealing her smooth, angular legs.
"Thanks," she said, taking another heavy haul at the liquid. "I just really don't feel comfortable though."
He smiled. "Take your clothes off, then."
She laughed. "You know, I almost think you meant that."
"I did. I know you've been all locked up, Mary, but the world is pretty loose today. I'd hate to see you get all broken up because you weren't able to handle yourself."
"Oh, I can handle myself," she bragged. "I know the things that are important."
"Like what?"
"Like helping people who need help. Like those mixed-up kids at school. They think they know everything. They've got a lot to learn about where life's real values lie."
Walton sneered. "Those little bastards all have it made. They'll never work a day in their lives. They're exempt from life. They were all born with silver spoons up their ass."
"Bob!"
He shrugged. "Sorry. Just bitter. But I asked you here to have a good time. I mean," he paused, eyes roaming thoughtfully over her body, "you're a sexy woman. I mean it. Something about you. The way you move. The way you hold yourself. Like you're screaming for someone to let you out. To unlock the cage you're in."
Mary finished the drink. "I'm certainly not locked up. I mean, I'm freer than I've ever been. As for being sexy ..." She laughed, tossing her head, lightly. "I'm not sexy at all. I'm just a simple woman."
"The simpler the better," he said, his dark brows half-hidden behind his glass. She squirmed uneasily.
"Hey, let's eat. I'm starved."
* * *
It was delicious, she thought. Fried chops, sweet potatoes, red beans, chitlins with a side plate of hot corn bread and lots of butter and honey.
"You going to turn black now?" Walton inquired as she fished out some more beans.
"Hardly. There's enough prejudice just being a woman."
He laughed softly. "Suppose you have a point. And being an ex-nun, you've got it even worse. Seems like our old ivy school has more than its share of token teachers."
"Token?"
"Sure. You think I'm there because I'm good. No. Because their parents can brag about the black teacher, the Jewish teacher, the former nun. Rich people are nuts. Watching others suffer, then bandaging the wounds is their kick."
"You're awfully bitter."
"Tired, baby. Tired of the games. The pretenses. Like you."
She looked up, startled. "Me?"
"Come on," he said, taking her hand and leading her around the corner. She followed reluctantly, his large paw clamped about her wrist. He stopped in the bedroom.
It was a large room, with a bed very low to the ground, again covered by a thick mat of fake leopard fur. There was a big mirror over the bed, and a small bar set into the bedstead. Soft, sexy music filtered out of four speakers located in the corners of the room.
"I don't understand," she said, pulling her hand away from his, an odd tingling racing through her from his lingering touch.
"Don't hand me that. You damn well know. Look at yourself."
Mary glanced down, then up at him. She shook her head. "No, I don't understand. I don't."
"Look at your dress. You pretending you're not sexy, that you didn't come here to get fucked. Sheeit, lady."
"No," she said, slowly shaking her head again. "That's not true. I came here because you asked me."
"And your hair. You combed it out," he said, reaching for the strands, rubbing the silky material in his fingers. "You combed your hair out and let your tits half fall out of the top of your dress because I asked you, right?"
"Don't talk like that," she said, jerking away.
With one deft scoop, faster than she could duck, he had her in his arms and was carrying her toward the waterbed.
"Let me down. Let me down!" She thrashed, legs kicking, helplessly trapped in the thick oaken cradle of his black arms.
"Sure!" He dropped her on the bed. She bounced, tits jiggling, dress hiking up around her waist. She pulled it down quickly, trying to get off the watery surface. Too late. He was beside her, pulling her body against his.
"Don't bullshit me, Mary. I've had it for years. I can read it a mile away. I read it on you, baby. I read it the day I saw you. You're a hungry little bitch, you know that?"
He jammed his hands between her thighs, working his fingers up toward her pantied crotch, her cool flesh filling the pink flat of his hand.
"Let me go!" she cried, vainly trying to twist free of his grasp. But the heavy arms were holding fast. His hand between her thighs was like a hot glove sending searing flames throughout her.
"You want it, Mary! You want my hot cock in you. Feel it, baby. You know you do! You can taste it. Just feel it!"
He took her hand and fought it down to his crotch. Her balled fist was pressed against the long hardness of his prick. He pressed it firmly, sliding her knuckles over his throbbing shaft.
"Yeah, Mary! Tell me now you don't want it! You sexy little slut. Hiding behind those bulky clothes. Hell, you might as well hang a sign on those fine white tits of yours."
He held her breast with his other hand, his fingers working the flesh into hot piles, the tips massaging and tweaking the nipples through the flimsy material.
"You've been hot for me a long time, Mary. I know what you've been thinking. It's in your eyes. Like now, baby. Like right now."
His lips crushed down onto hers. She tried to twist away, but he followed, his tongue slicing at her cheek. His lips caught hers, firmly mating with them as her struggling became weaker and weaker. She was faint, almost exhausted from the wrestling match. She felt her thighs going first, relaxing, sliding apart as his hand teased the soft surface of her fleshy guardians. Then her hand went, the balled fist relaxing, the fingers becoming limp and spreading open into a fan that he stroked over his long, hard, trouser-trapped prong. Finally her lips relented. They grew soft and thirsty, parting slowly to allow his tongue to enter, then wider as her own tongue hungrily fought its way to his.
He broke the kiss and sat up laughing. "You see, bitch? Bullshit. That's all you are. And that's all I am. We all are. Bullshit. You want me bad, don't you?" he was standing, stripping the pullover off. His black chest gleamed with sweat in the dim light. A small triangle of kinky hair formed a shield in the middle of his chest as he unstrapped his belt and shoved the trousers to the floor.
"No," Mary said weakly, her mouth dry, eyes transfixed on the long, black, rubbery-looking cock that stood out smartly from his loins. "No. I don't want to. I don't want to."
"You want to feel it in you, Mary!" He stroked the velvet underside with his fingers, making the thick, black acorn head bulge. "You want to hold it, baby. You want to touch it. Kiss it. Lick its hot tip. It's in your eyes, baby. Like a book, it's written all over that hungry-little-cunt smile of yours. I've seen it a million times before. Now a million and one."
Mary bit her lip, fighting back the curious sparks showering through her loins. She turned on her side, the waterbed sloughing as she did, throwing her body into a series of listing undulations.
"It's like your own sex machine, baby. You can't run from it, baby. You want it too bad."
He knelt on the bed. Mary pulled her knees up to her stomach, burying her face in the pillow she clutched protectively against her breasts.
"You're fighting it, Mary," his husky voice said. "You don't want to fight the bullshit. Think about giving, baby. Better than having somebody take it."
His hands touched her back. She felt his fingers on the zipper, yanking it down, exposing the clasp to her bra. She shuddered, whining "no" over and over as he unlatched the bra and rolled her onto her back.
"Such nice tits," he praised, pulling her dress slowly off her shoulders, watching the ripe, fleshy mounds spill into view. His mouth descended onto one of her red, puckered nipples, his lips massaging and milking the tip until it stood erect between his teeth.
"You don't understand," she pleaded as he pulled her dress off her hips, sliding it over her thighs. "I am innocent. My heart is innocent. I don't want to sin. God help me, I don't want to sin!"
"You're not going to sin," he said heavily, "you're going to fuck. That's all. You're gonna fuck a big black stud. And you're gonna like it!" .
His hands teased her flesh, the tips of his fingers dragging slowly over her tits, outlining the firm undersides. They streaked down her stomach, toying with her navel, then sliding down to the trembling fork of her thighs. Her body was rigid, toes curling like stretched bows as the tips of the man's pink-tinted fingers lightly brushed her snatch. She clenched her teeth, struggling against the insatiable warmth that blanketed her mind.
"You have a sweet cunt," he said, straddling her, the dark length of his prick spearing up like a huge exclamation point, underscoring his massive sexual strength. She looked at him with glazed eyes, half-afraid and half-desirous of his touch.
"Sweet, pink, juicy lips," he continued, the tip of his finger cruising slowly up the slit, its tip tantalizing her engorged clit. "Ah, yeah, baby. I can feel you humming now. Feel that body melting to cream. You feel it, too, baby? Yeah, that's it. Just relax those thighs. Let 'em spread wide. Let 'em stretch the honey lips apart."
Mary tried not to relax. She balled her fists again and prayed, hoping that some inner strength would surface and fight that sweetly bubbling sensation that coursed throughout her. The battle was hopeless. She felt his hands nudging her thighs apart. They slipped, seemingly oiled at the pelvis by his sensual touch. The folds of her snatch peeled apart, the wet slice of her cunt like a bud just touched by the warmth of the morning sun.
"That's it, Mary. That's it. See, you want it, don't you? Ah," he said, the tip of his finger working into her slot, circling and massaging the warm, pulsing glove of her cunt, "you're so soft and hot! Hard to breathe, isn't it? You want more, don't you?"
Tears pinched from the corners of her eyes. Her breasts heaved as she gasped, her lungs aching from the shallow gulps of stale air.
"Please, don't touch me there!" she whined, her voice cracking, trembling with a fragile weakness that made her words thin, hissing invitations.
"I'm going to eat you, baby. Hear that? I'm gonna gobble that nice, watermelon slice of pussy."
She moaned, twisting away, the pounding obscenity of his words clashing with the lurid thought of his tongue against her clitoris. She was both drawn to the thought and repulsed as he hiked her legs up over his black shoulders, his fingers hooking into the trembling folds of her cunt as he slowly spread the rosy portals apart.
"You're gonna come and come and come," he said huskily, his dark face diving down to the patch of silken pubic hairs. She braced herself, her thighs scissoring around his neck, ankles locking into place as she anticipated his oral contact.
"NOOOOO!!!"
She felt the scream rip out of her throat as his lips touched her snatch. Her thighs snapped tightly together, crushing his jaws in their deadly grip. She reached up, beating at the kinky back of his head with her fists, her body jerking and rolling on the waterbed as she conjured her last fighting ounces of energy.
He jabbed his tongue into her, his hands grabbing her swinging wrists, pinning them to the bed. She jerked her hips from one side to another, trying to expel the lingual worm wiggling wildly inside her.
The tip stabbed deeply into her, curling and dragging itself out. As she bucked up, his tongue speared down. Sweat popped out all over her trembling body. She gasped, panting and crying as the tongue swizzled drunkenly inside her gulping cunny.
Again she screamed, this time because his teeth were snapping at her clit, catching the swollen bud and rolling it from side to side. His lips made loud smacking noises as he sucked the sweet juices from her.
He shoved her hands up to her tits, rubbing her knotted fists over her turgid nipples. She felt the hot blasts of passion overwhelming her resistance. Her body weakened. The struggling was dying, replaced by a rhythmic motion of her hips that blended with the driving force of his tongue.
No, her mind screamed, no, don't let him betray you! Don't let him win! The mental words were smothered. The slurping, sucking sounds of his lips rose over the objections. She felt her hands opening, the fingers closing around her own breasts. She sensed her nipples between her fingers and squeezed them, milking the hot, eraser-like eruptions into firm marbles atop her tits. His hands were cupping the undersides of her boobs, piling the flesh up as her own fingers topped the nipples seductively.
The hot, wickedly long length of his cock brushed against her leg. She shoved her ass toward it, desiring its touch as much as his tongue.
Her stomach knotted. She threw her hips madly against his face, her heart thundering as the first sign of her orgasm seared through her mind. She froze, body stretched ironlike as he jackhammered his tongue into her. She clutched her tits firmly, digging her nails into the soft mounds as she spasmodically squeezed her pussylips tightly together and let out a screeching yell.
"GAAAHHHHHH!!!"
Suddenly her body bolted. Hot showers of fluids sprayed from within her cunt. She jerked, smashing her pelvis against his broad, flaring nose as she heaved the orgasm out of her, spitting it into his hungry mouth. Her hands flew to the back of his head, yanking it down against her burning cunt, twisting it from side to side until it seemed every ounce of her being had been transferred to his lips.
"Jesus," he said, lifting his huge bush of hair from between her thighs. She lay panting, fingers knotted in his hair. He pried them loose, his dark, chocolate eyes aimed at her face. She lay staring at the ceiling, a glazed look painted on her face, her tongue hanging loosely from her lips.
He moved up toward her, his long prick jiggling with the waves of the waterbed. He took the black staff in one hand, pushing it down toward her mouth.
"Eat it, baby!"
She lay still, as though hypnotized, her mouth partly opened, her nostrils quivering as she sucked in heavy heaps of air.
He cupped the back of her head, lifting it up toward the large, round knob of his cock. She stared at it, the foreskin peeling back, exposing the wet, slick torpedo knob. A drop of pearly semen hung like a tear on the tip. Below the staff swung two thick orbs, covered with black kinky hairs.
"Suck it!" he said deeply, pressing the hot, dripping tip of the prickhead against her lips. She turned away as the cockhead brushed her lips. He grabbed her hair, forcing her to face him.
"Suck it, I said!" She shook her head, eyes pleading with his, stomach roiling at the thought. Yet something about the length and girth of the instrument snapped into focus. She felt a deep, mind-boggling urge to reach out and touch it. To caress it with her fingers, and even to taste it in her mouth.
"You want to suck it, baby. I know you do! Eat it! Swallow it! Lick it!"
His fingers tightened on her hair. A sharp pain shot from the back of her head. She opened her mouth and let out a painful yelp.
"I don't want to hurt you, Mary," he said menacingly, his voice so thick and rough she was sure the Devil had taken over his mind.
"I'll get sick," she stammered, her eyes unable to move from the serpentine tip. She thought of the cobra, how it moved toward the bird, holding its eye. The bird, fascinated with both the evil intensity and the closeness of danger, was unable to move. Looking death in the eye, knowing that it was in the whole order of the universe, but unable to protect itself from the cobra's deadly strike.
She felt like the bird. The black cobra before her wanted to strike. She could feel that, too. And something more feral and devastating. Deep in her mind something was urging her to experiment. To reach for it, to hold it. To lick it lovingly.
He took her hand and placed it around the pole, moving her fingers so they were firmly planted around the hot, throbbing shaft of ebony meat. She squeezed, the firm, spongy flesh beating against her sweating palm. His hands were on her tits, pressing down and smothering the mounds with his palms, then tweaking the nipples and pulling them back up to pointed peaks.
"Eat it!"
Her mouth grew parched. She licked her lips, her head trembling from holding it up at the painful angle. Once more the burning warmth was coursing through her. She could feel her throat constricting and a dampness forming about her loins.
She opened her lips, the pink flat of her tongue slipping out over her lower teeth as she moved her head toward the thick knob. Unable to close her eyes, she pressed her mouth onto the knob, first touching it with the base of her tongue, then slowly closing her lips around the heavy, hot flesh.
The droplet fell onto her tongue, exploding like a grain of salt on her taste buds. He inched forward, shoving more of the prick into her throat. She had the pole now with two hands, moving her head slowly back and forth, feeling the stiff sides brush against her cheeks as she sucked heartily.
The size of his prong frightened her. With one sudden jerk she imagined he could cram it down her throat, thus choking her to death. The boys--Harry and Ben--flashed into her mind. She saw their small, nonthreatening penises floating toward her lips. She felt their little fingerling cocks between her lips and a sense of security rushed to her, then was lost as he made a thrust, jamming the head of the cock deep into her throat.
She gagged. Coughing, spluttering, she pulled the prick away, only to have his second lunge lodge the prick once more in the back of her throat. "Gammmphhh . . . goooobbbbbpphhh . . . !" She tried to wrestle away, but he leaned down, pinning her head against the bed. She twisted, her mouth slurping and spewing as she tried to catch her breath. He was hunching into her, the heavy weight of his balls slapping at her chin. She shoved her hands up, fighting off his weight as best she could, trying to keep from gagging as the head of his cock sought the small opening of her windpipe.
"Suck! Suck! Suck! SUCK!" He panted the words as she fought for her life, fingers flying rapidly over the pole in a sudden battle for her life. She instinctively knew he would come if she helped. Her fingers jacked the base of his cock. Her face twisted, sucking hard, waiting for him to expel the lust that was almost suffocating her. "AHHHHGGGHHHHH!!!" She coughed. A hot stream of thick come splattered against her throat. It pooled, making her cough, then she swallowed hard as the shaft jerked and spat its final drippings into her throat.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mary lay with the semen dripping from the corners of her mouth, letting him lift her body and roll it onto her stomach. She did nothing to stop him as he jacked up her hips, spreading them so that the wide split of her ass faced his cock.
"I got enough left for this," he grunted, guiding the black hose toward her quivering cunt. She braced herself, grabbing the pillow and squeezing hard as she felt his huge sword wedge itself into her cunny.
"Ohhhh ..." A sharp pain raced through her as his cock spread her tight canal. She thought she was going to pass out as the blinding agony of his entrance gripped her.
"God, no!" she clamped her teeth together, her fists beating on the pillow. He worked his hips slowly, wedging the long, searing poker into her. She felt something ripping as the flesh stretched wider and wider. His cock sawed its way in, followed by his grunting animal sounds. She felt weak, her head spinning and body screaming as the shaft planted its head farther and farther into her.
Slowly, he withdrew, working the cock in a back-and-forth fashion. The pain ebbed, replaced with an electric spark that began to ignite her passion. She felt her asscheeks swishing sideways. Her pelvis ground back, mating with his measured strokes.
His fingers crawled up her stomach, catching the swaying pendulums of her jugs. She gasped as the hot tips sank into her meaty flesh. She wriggled her ass back, wheezing as another sharp fragment of pain shot through her. He smashed forward, the cockhead hitting her cervix. She let out a low, wailing whimper.
The elongated sacs of his balls slip-splatted against her tortured pussy. She looked down, between her legs, watching the balls swaying forward. Reaching back, she caught them in the palms of her hands and rolled the two heavy orbs together. The soft scratch of his pubic hair against her sweating flesh sent shivers through her.
Her body's thirst grew heavy. She wedged her way back, fighting the pain of his huge penis in her, desiring the maddening sense of its hugeness inside her.
"Fuck!" she found herself muttering. "Fuck! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!"
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She gasped, heaving out the words. His hands worked frantically on her breasts. The back of his tongue was lapping at her neck. His teeth nibbled at the nape, grinding the flesh into livid welts. His fingers rolled the nipples hard until she thought they would burst from the massive pounding of blood that filled them.
"Harder! Harder!"
Her tongue licked out, aimed toward her breasts which were dangling just a fraction of an inch away. She barely touched her own flesh, a deep hedonistic desire overwhelming her.
"I'm going to come! I'm going to COME!" She blurted out the words. Her teeth gnashed together. Her hands clamped viselike around his nuts, milking the juices up toward the plunging tube of his cock.
Her body shuddered. Ass flashing, she pounded the cheeks of her butt against his stomach. Her knees jerked up and down, sending the waves of motion rocking through her body. His cock was machine-gunning into her. She met his thrusts with powerful counter-thrusts, screaming louder with each one.
"Now! Now! NOW!"
Her nails dug into his balls. Her eyes bulged, two eggs straining to pop from their sockets. His fingers snagged deeply into her tit flesh as their bodies battered fiercely into one another.
Mary cried out. She strained as her asscheeks clenched, squeezing the shocking orgasm from her body. When it was almost over, she felt another blasting bolt of energy rampaging through her and again her body blanched, stomach heaving and shooting out tiny spasms of orgiastic pleasure.
His hot, acidic semen spattered in her womb. She snapped back, wriggling her butt against him, rolling his balls together as he let out his own primal cry.
They remained locked together for an instant before she slowly slumped under his weight and began to weep.
* * *
Mary moved briskly down the hall, a large bundle of books stuffed under her arm. She saw him coming toward her, his black face impassive, his eyes holding hers, signaling the bitter taste of last night's conquest. She looked away, stepping to one side, not wanting an encounter. He blocked her way.
"In here." He opened a door to an empty classroom. "No!"
"In!" His smile was sly and deceiving. Reluctantly, she entered the empty room.
"I don't think we have anything to talk about," she said, holding the books in front of her breasts protectively.
"I just wanted to thank you, honey," he said, reaching for her arm. She shrugged away.
"I should report you," she warned, his fingers sending cool chills throughout her. "I should tell the police and Mister Smith."
His face grew hostile. "Look, I told you about bullshitting yourself. Why don't you just let it hang, Mary? Christ. You're fooling yourself. Damn, we had it good last night. You were so damned hot. I haven't been that turned on in years."
"Don't talk to me like that. You took advantage. You took me against my will."
His jaw knotted. "You make me sick, you know that? You need help. If I took you then, I did because you wanted it. Don't you think I can have my share of chicks? Why the hell would I take you?"
"Because you're a vile and corrupt man. Because you're sick. Because ..."
"Sheeittt..." He wheeled, turning toward the door, paused and looked at her. "You're fucked up, Mary. That crap you handed me last night about God and sin and Hell and damnation was so thick it drew flies. You just remember that sweet ass of yours kissing my cock, and that innocent voice of yours begging to get fucked. Then you think about having the guts to call me vile and corrupt. You're worse. Because you don't even know you're a walking cunt on fire. See you in bed. baby!"
"You will in Hell," Mary blurted as he slammed the door behind him. She stood, shivering, her thin, angular frame weak. She leaned against the desk, pressing her hand to her forehead, trying to wash last night from her mind's watchful eye.
It was all confusing. Everything going askew. First the boys, then Maureen and now Bob. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog that threatened to choke her.
Last night she had prayed for hours for guidance. She had cried, seeking strength and advice, but nothing had been clear. Only the boys clung as hope. That she might atone her sins by making them aware of their faults. That was the only reason she didn't turn in Walton. Or Maureen. That was her thin thread of hope. That her work could and would serve to purify her body's sins.
It wasn't her mind, she was sure. Oh, she had fought her body. God, had she fought. But her body had ruled. Incarnate, her body had taken over the spirit, ruling her flesh and making her say those vile things. She had been forced to submit to Bob's touch. She was sure of that. It wasn't at all what he said. It couldn't be. She was different from the rest of them. She was better than Mother Superior or Maureen. The boys would prove that. Yes, they would, she thought, her courage bolstered, her strength returning.
The boys were gentle. Much more than Bob. She had thought heavily about them last night. They were only playing. They were lost sheep, and she was the shepherd. She would not let them stray as Bob had. No. Even their penises were gentler. She could see them in her mind's eye. They were small and soft and innocent, even if they did things that weren't right. She could make them pure. Yes. And they didn't hurt. Not like Bob's. She had almost been choked by Bob's. And her cunt was still sore this morning from the massive size of Bob's prick.
But the boys, she thought. They were small, innocent and could be helped. She looked at her watch. It was past time to go to Ben's home. She had practiced what she would say to his parents, how she would explain that it was God's work that brought her to them to help their son.
She left the room, stepping out into the warm afternoon sun. She felt clean and pure as she walked toward her car. She felt that she had a purpose and that there was hope in the world. I will help the boys, she thought, grinding the engine to life. She swung the car onto the road, aiming it toward the exclusive section of town where the boys and their parents were waiting. Mary felt excited. She clutched the wheel firmly, her fingers sensing the gnarled plastic ridges as she turned into Ben's driveway toward the secluded, colonial entrance that stood like a giant path to restoring her faith.
* * *
"You're late!"
Mary looked down into Ben's face. He was wearing a leather loincloth, his face painted bright, streaked colors, and a small feather stuck from a headband at the back of his head.
"Are your parents here?" Mary tried to peer in through the cracked door.
"Will be soon. Come on in."
He swung the heavy door open. Mary hesitated. Ben didn't look like he was dressed for a major confrontation. His bare, hairless chest was decorated with paint--she guessed Indian signs--and a small rubber tomahawk was shoved into the belt holding his loincloth in place. She noticed it was all he wore, and that the bare backside of butt was uncovered.
"Are you sure your parents are coming?" Mary's brow arched suspiciously.
"I'm sure. Come on in."
He grabbed her by the wrist, urging her in. She stepped onto the terrazzo entryway. Ben closed the door.
"In here!"
He moved ahead of her, waiting at another door. "We have a conference room downstairs. Do all our heavy talking down there. Come on."
She watched him disappear down the steps. Alone, she measured her alternatives, then slowly stepped toward where he had gone.
The hall was dark, the steps barely visible through the darkness. She could see Ben a few steps down, his bare buttocks like a light guiding her through the night.
"Ben? I will not come down there unless the lights are on."
"I'm gonna fix it. Must've blown a fuse," he said. She watched him go down until his white buttocks were swallowed in darkness.
Fumbling noised wafted up from below. She heard the metallic sound of a box opening and Ben muttering something about fuses.
"Hey, Teacher. Can you come down and help me with this? I can't get it by myself."
Mary stared at the darkness. Something in the air warned her against going, and something stronger told her that Ben needed help. She started down, inching her way over the plushly carpeted steps.
"Don't you have a flashlight?" she queried, straining to see through the darkness.
"Couldn't find one!" Ben's voice seemed far away.
"Where are you?" she asked, groping in the dark.
"Over here."
She turned toward his voice, her hands outstretched, eyes sensing some movement ahead.
"Do you have a match?" She took two steps forward.
"Yeah," Ben said with a laugh, "my cock and your snatch!"
Mary froze. She started to turn when the hands came out of the darkness. They grabbed her feet, pulling them out from under her. A whooping yell rose as other hands reached from the blackness and caught her, wrestling her to the floor. She tried to cry out, but something was stuffed into her mouth. Hands worked over her body, pulling at her tits, her cunt, her thighs.
A drum beat and the sound of bells could be heard jingling as the hands feverishly worked her buttons loose. Mary's eyes smarted as a flaming torch suddenly exploded into view. Ben stood, the orange flames illuminating his face. Mary glanced around. There were perhaps eight other boys dressed similarly to Ben holding her down and stripping her clothes off.
"You . . . white squaw . . . come to red man's camp . . . must be white man's spy ..." Ben thrust out his chest as he spoke. Mary tried to yell, but the gag had been firmly tied, muffling her protest.
Ben moved closer. Mary saw Harry's pudgy face lighting up. He giggled, reaching for her panties, peeling them down her thighs. The other boys giggled as Ben continued to speak.
"You have secret message in panties..." he said, holding up the sheer nylon to the torch. "Say here you spy for Yellow Hair . . . say here you come to fuck Indian . . . only Indian fuck-em you instead ..."
The boys burst out laughing. Mary vainly tried to struggle free. They rolled her over on her back, lashing her hands and feet with soft, thick rope.
Other torches were lit, forming a bright ring around Mary. The hands slipped off her naked body as the boys made a ring around her. They were all from her class. Pete. Roger. Charles. Larry. Samuel. Stewart. Each wore war paint and only a loincloth. She shivered, her body weak from struggling and her brain shrinking with a dull fear.
Ben approached her. "You come to cast bad medicine on Chief of braves. Chief no like that. Chief make war on squaw. Squaw no listen to Chief other day. Squaw make-um big trouble. Now Chief make-em big trouble for squaw."
Mary shook her head and tried to speak.
"Squaw say want tits felt," Harry said.
Mary looked with frightened eyes as Harry rose, his fat tummy overlapping his loincloth. He walked over and stroked her breast, his fingers sliding down the flesh nervously.
"Squaw say that feel good," Harry said, his eyes slitted and mouth munching hungrily. "Squaw want other braves to touch, too."
The other boys crowded into the circle. Mary tried to struggle, but the ropes were firm. Her hands behind her back, her tits were forced to rise haughtily, their upturned nipples standing erect as each of the boys reached out to fondle her.
Harry continued: "Squaw want pussy touched. Say she have itch there. Can't scratch!" The boys giggled, their small hands reaching out experimentally, touching her pubic hair and the inside of her thighs. Harry pushed her onto her back. She let out a muffled cry as her backbone pressed against her bonded hands.
Harry pressed at her knees, spreading them against her will as the boys closed in, their faces aimed at her snatch. One by one they reached for her, their small fingers touching the wet orifice. Peter ran his spidery fingers up the slit teasingly, then passed the finger around the other boys' noses so they could smell.
"Firewater," he said, crumpling into a fit of giggles. Ben's voice broke the foreplay, which had begun to take its toll on Mary. She fought the alarms in her body, but it was hopeless. Each time one of the boys touched her, she could feel her muscles tensing and her breath coming in short gasps.
"Hold ..." Ben reached up and plucked the feather from his headband. "Squaw must squirm. You watch-em squirm, braves."
He held the feather out, driving it toward Mary's spread thighs. She tried to back away, but Harry knelt over her head, his knees jammed up against her shoulders.
"Braves watch pussy weep. If spy, squaw will leak on feather. If not spy, squaw will still leak on feather."
They, laughed loudly, then fell silent as they huddled around Mary's groin to watch Ben manipulate the feather.
Mary's skin crawled. She tried to cry out, but her voice was lidded by the cloth. She sobbed, her eyes watery as the tip of the feather tantalized her twat. At first it was uncomfortable, the soft feathery tip grazing her pussy lips. Ben worked it expertly, switching down, then slowly, like some artist delivering a stroke onto a canvas, he gently, masterfully let the tip inch up her slit.
Minutes passed, then seemed to grow into painful hours as she fought the growing excitement and anticipation of the feather's touch. Ben would make a sweeping stroke, then hold the feather away, watching her face until Mary's eyes seemed to signal the frustration and anticipation.
Then he would brush it against her lips, first one, then the other before letting the tantalizing tip slice up the pink, richly textured slot.
"Spread them," Ben ordered. Two boys gently hooked their fingers into the folds of her cunt, prying them apart so that the bright, living flesh of her cunt-mouth was exposed. Ben, like some delicate surgeon, began to strike the tip of the feather against her clitoris. Each time the feather lingered a fraction longer until Mary's hips began to rise off the floor and move in grinding circles with the motion.
"She loves it," Harry grunted, flipping up his loincloth. Mary looked up. His small, hard penis stood erect, just above her. The tiny foreskin was peeling back. She rolled her eyes deliriously, her body captive to the feather Ben moved incessantly across her throbbing clit.
Her mind buzzed now with sex. The battle was futile, she knew, as she felt her mouth watering for the taste of Harry's cock only a few centimeters away.
"Hey, she wants to suck it," Harry said excitedly, moving so that his little prick hovered over her lips.
Ben inched the feather over Mary's clit. Her hips were moving more rhythmically now. Her face was flushed, eyes bulging open, tits standing erect as her muffled pleas of resentment turned to throttled moans and grunts.
"Kiss me," Harry said, untying the gag and pushing his little prick down against Mary's lips. Her tongue darted out lizardlike, the tip whipping suddenly against Harry's cock. He jumped back, startled.
Ben laughed. "Brave Short-Cock no expect that!"
Harry moved forward, his face red, laughing weakly as he tantalized Mary with his prick. He moved so that he straddled her chest, his asshole bobbing against one of her tits. She could smell his sweet flesh and feel his small, hairless balls against her chin. Her lips parted, tongue working out and licking at the wet exposed head of his cock. Her fear had vanished. The feather replaced it with a drunken lust for the boys. She thought of Harry's purity-unlike that of Bob whose cock seemed so long and vulgar and hopelessly corrupted. But there was hope for the boys, she told herself. She would taste them, and let them taste her. She would seduce their confidence, then steal the Devil from them, replacing him with the true Spirit. Yes, she thought as she looked up at the small, rangy underside of Harry's penis. Yes, that is what I must do!
"Hey, look at her lick it!"
"Yeah. Man, that's wild."
"Groovy!"
Mary's slicing tongue whipped out, slapping at Harry's little prick. The boy grabbed it with two fingers, pushing the short joint down toward her guppy-like lips. She felt the soft flesh entering and mashed down, massaging the slickened head. Her tongue danced over its head, each time making Harry squeal with delight.
She was able to get the whole thing in her mouth, her wet lips gobbling at the base, trying to inhale his two firm balls. At the same instant, Ben was working the feather against her grinding cunt. She lurched her hips up, drunk with the searing lust that shot out to every nerve ending. Twelve hands fished over her body, touching her tits, nipples, thighs, asscheeks. They pulled and pried at her like little ducks, their fingers nibbling at her hot, tingling flesh. A mouth covered her nipple, sucking it into a warm, hot little mouth. A finger teased her anus, twisting up into her tight butthole. She let out a cry, expelling Harry's penis, only to quickly recapture it when he stuffed it back into her mouth.
She rolled her eyes at the boys-fuzzy blurs moving over her like ants on a drop of honey. Their penises were stiff, exposed now that they had shed the loincloths. Some rubbed the hot little heads of their cocks between her tits. Others were humping her legs. Still another lay across her stomach drilling her navel with the head of his nipple-sized prick.
Harry was hunching into her, the fat rolls of his stomach mashing into her face. She swallowed, gulping at the hard little shank, feeling it bobbling against the roof of her mouth.
Suddenly, she no longer felt the softness of the feather against her cunny. Instead, something round and hard was pressing against her door. She twisted her head, peering through Harry's pudgy thighs at Ben who was shoving the handle of his tomahawk against her.
She tried to spit out Harry's penis, to warn Ben not to do it. But Harry was planted firmly, his heavy breath and rocking hips a signal of his purpose.
She tried twisting her head, to unglue Harry. Hopelessly she watched the wooden handle driving down. Her hot snatch was splayed wide with lust, hungrily snapping at the handle as it pressed firmly against her. She felt the slickened sides oozing through the opening. Her body heaved back, trying to avoid the blunt instrument's threat. But it wasn't as bad as she expected. There was grease on it, making it slip into her without pain or agony.
The handle moved in and out, filling her clutching cunt with its firm fullness. She writhed, hands and feet pivoting behind her as the handle began to pump in and out, its hard sides becoming warm with the pistoning motion.
Suddenly Ben pulled it out. She watched him rip off his loincloth and grab the stiff, fleshy rod that stood three inches from his balls.
Her body became unaware of the other boys. Eyes studying Ben from under Harry's thighs, she saw him kneel and scoot toward her, his eyes fixed on her dripping snatch. She pushed her hips off the floor, letting her thighs spread as he neared.
His hands reached for the pelvic bones, grabbing them like handles as he wedged his knees under her asscheeks and shoved the hot-poker head of his prick into her cunt.
Head swimming from the delicious sensation of the boy's prong, she began to suck ravenously on Harry's cock, nipping at the boy's peeled-back foreskin and pulling at it with her teeth.
Ben's cock was plunging hard into her. She could barely feel it as it skidded over her bruised and nearly numb clitoris. He was hunching like a wild man, his fingers now clawing at her stomach, grabbing handfuls of her skin and yanking to throw himself deeper into her yawning slit.
Harry was flopping like a wounded piglet against her face, his uncoordinated body sloughing one way, then the other. The other boys began to chant and let out strange whoops and cries as Harry's hard humps began to quicken. She felt the sides of her snatch biting at Ben's ramming cock. Her body rose and fell with the boys jabbing and clutching her, their little pricks sliding over her welted flesh.
Ben's assault was the only one that she concentrated on. It was nearing its end, his hips flashing against her, shoving his cock and part of his balls into her. He was whooping, his voice rising to a high-pitched shrill as the bobbing head of his cock battered frantically against her clutching snatch.
The chant was picked by the other boys and carried through their manipulations. Mary's body fought the heavy weight trying to pin her motionless to the floor, and threw her hips wildly against Ben, trying to meet his bruising thrusts and drive the small prick deeper into her where the raging fires burnt the wildest.
"Yeah, come! Come! Come! COME!"
Like someone had jerked a cord, each of the boys began to shoot. First Harry. His little nubbin spit a fine stream of semen into her mouth. She swallowed hard, her lips chewing the boy's cock until he cried with pain and rolled off her with a loud thud.
On her stomach and tits, she saw the others spilling their jism, the little streams of semen forming pearly tracks across her stomach, thighs and jugs.
Ben was the last. She watched, her hips pounding up, her mouth measuring out the words of encouragement.
"Fuck me, baby! Fuck me, little one! Fuck me, my son! For God's sake, make me come!"
He reached up and caught her tits, desperately trying to cling to the fleshy mounds that were covered with the slippery jizz of his fellow Indians. She could see the pained expression on his face and the glazed look in his eyes as he rammed hard into her, his hips quivering and his muscles straining.
She wiggled against him, the muscles of her cunny snapping firmly around his staff, the tiny, fingerlike coils of flesh cinching tightly around his prod, milking it as he moved in and out like a jackrabbit.
"GAAAAHHHHH!!!"
She felt him spluttering into her. The hot stream of juice burned as it washed the bruised sides of her straining canal. She tried to hold him, to finish herself off. But he pushed away, the hardness suddenly growing soft before her eyes.
"No," she whined, her body writhing helplessly on the floor. "No, I'm not finished! Don't stop, Benny! Don't stop!"
She twisted her hips up, offering herself to him, knowing that the fire inside her must be put out. It must be drenched and buried.
"She wants to fuck some more," Harry said.
"I can't," Ben said, wiping his brow, his penis now sagging and shrinking before her eyes.
"I already came," Peter said.
"Me, too!" The boys one by one stood looking at their soft, expired pricks.
"Please," Mary whined, her body aching, the hot lips of her snatch growing more and more frustrated with the passing moments.
"I have to have it! God, you made me want it! Don't leave me like this. Please, boys? Please?"
Ben's face lit up. "Hey! I got a great idea. Wait," he -said, reaching down and flicking his finger against her wet snatch, "and I'll give you something you'll never forget."
The boys watched her as Ben charged up the stairs. They reached out, touching her body, keeping her revved up until Ben's footsteps could be heard taking the stairs two at a time.
"Here you go, Sister Liz," Ben said, coming back into view. "A nice horny old German shepherd. Just what the doctor ordered."
Mary's body froze. She watched as Ben guided the huge dog toward her thighs. Its long red tongue dangled loosely below a sharply pointed nose. Its teeth bared menacingly as Ben said: "Roll her over!"
CHAPTER SIX
Even Mary's tits grew icy.
Every square inch of her body, which moments before had desired anything to satisfy the lust, became clammy and crawled with tiny goosebumps.
The boys rolled her onto her stomach. Ben grabbed her asscheeks, hoisting them high in the air. He untied the ropes around her ankles, telling Harry and Pete to spread them.
"No!" Mary's voice was shrill with fright. "God, no! That's foul! You can't do it. Please don't let him touch me!"
"Bruno's a nice dog," Harry said. "Heck, he won't hurt you, Teach. Just give him a chance."
Mary tried to jerk away. The dog snarled viciously.
"Hey, don't do that. Ole Bruno thinks you might be a squaw spy. He hates white women," Ben said, laughing and hauling the dog by its choke collar up toward Mary's splayed buttcheeks.
"Please. Anything but that," she moaned, her heart sinking to her stomach. She felt her fingers curling in disgust as the wet odor of the dog's fur met her nostrils.
"You said you wanted to finish," Ben was saying softly. "I mean, we can't let old Hot Snatch Sister Liz go away with an empty pussy, now can we, guys?"
The other boys shook their heads.
"Huh-uh. Like you said, Ben. She's a dog. And dogs fuck other dogs, right?"
"That's right, Harry. And isn't that right, Sister Liz?"
"God help me," she muttered, tears spilling down her hose, making her body convulse as she coughed.
"Bruno will be good. You wait and see. I've seen ole Bruno fuck five dogs in one day, and never get stuck."
Pete giggled. "What if he gets stuck to her? We call the fire department."
"Naw," Harry added, "we just throw cold water on 'em."
"Imagine her going to class with Bruno stuck up her snatch!"
Their laughter was coarse barbs jabbing at her ears. She shoved her face deeply into the shag rug, desperately trying to remove herself from the insanity growing around her.
Ben inched the dog closer. The shepherd tried to back away, its feet pawing and skidding in a reverse direction.
"Hey, big fella. You're gonna like Sister Liz. Just get a whiff of that hot pussy."
Mary felt the dog's nose being shoved against her snatch. She tried to scrabble forward, but three bodies blocked the way.
"Cold, isn't it?"
Mary shuddered. The dog's icy nose touched her again. She braved a look back between her legs and saw Ben shoving Bruno against her. He repeated the process six or seven times until the dog was standing, front paws stretched wide, nose sniffing at the pink slit of her cunt.
"That's it," Ben said, "smell it, Bruno. Smell all those hot little juices."
The dog whined. Mary's back erupted with tiny nodes of fear as the dog's tongue lapped out, the heavy, rough flat of it dragging slowly up her dripping slit.
"Hey, he's got it now!" Ben said excitedly. The boys crowded around Mary's ass to watch.
"That's it, Bruno. Again!"
The dog lapped again; this time his tongue caught her stomach and slowly worked up until it had swathed the same rough-hewn path across her twat.
Mary watched from between her legs, her sight tunneled by the dangling mounds of her tits that formed a fleshy "V" through which she could watch the dog's actions.
"He's gettin' the idea. Look at his cock. It's starting to get hard!"
Indeed, Mary could see the heavily skinned sheath peeling back and the bright-red tip of the knifelike dog cock spearing into view. A yellowish droplet clung to the tip as the eighty-pound shepherd pranced nervously, its jaws hinged open to reveal the red, rubbery length of its tongue.
"Don't," she moaned, her voice shallow and weak, her eyes fixed hypnotically on the dog's prong. "Please, if you have any compassion at all, stop."
"But you said you wanted it," Ben barked. "I mean, it was your idea. You can't pin it on us. Right, guys? Didn't she come down here and try to screw us? Didn't she give us grass? Didn't she know my parents were away for a month? I mean, Sister Liz, we're just a bunch of innocent kids. You tried to do the trick on us. I mean, imagine the morals charge. The newspapers. God, you'd be in prison for centuries over this one. Dope, sex, fuckin' dogs. Wow!"
"NO!" Mary screamed, trying to wrench free. Bruno growled menacingly.
"He kinda likes it when you don't move," Ben warned. "You don't want him to bite your snatch, do you?"
"You're sick. Let me help you," she pleaded, unable to take her eyes off the dog. "Let me help you learn about goodness. Please, there's still hope."
"Goodness, Teach," Ben said. "Heck, we all go to church. I mean, that's expected. And we don't steal. Well," he giggled, "not much. And we understand. Yeah, we know about sin. It's in the mind. That's what my dad says. It's in your head. If you think you're bad, you're bad. But if you don't think it's bad or wrong, there's nothing or nobody who can say different."
"You're wrong," she cried, her mouth dry, her eyes wide as saucers. The dog lapped at her pussy again, the "U" shape of the slick tongue skidding luxuriously over her clit. "Ahhhhh," she groaned, trying to fight the bursting warmth in her groin.
"See, you're starting to like Bruno. He can't be bad. Right? If you like him."
Bruno's tongue made another pass, this time the edge of it cutting sharply along her slit. She let out another gasping wheeze as the sharp needles of passion began to stab at her mind.
"I mean," Ben was going on in a tutorial voice, "if you dig sex with dogs, so what? Like, I don't hear you screaming in pain when ole Bruno licks your hot little cunt."
Before Mary could answer the dog made two quick passes at her snatch. She gasped deeply, her words choked off by the overpowering sensuality of the dog's tongue.
"Stop him," she panted weakly, her ass uncontrollably backing toward the dog. She felt that her body was under some demonic control, driving her toward this beast.
"Please, stop him," Ben mocked her words. The others followed. "Please stop him."
"Please stop him."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!"
The chanting, the dog's tongue, her trembling body, the scorching warmth in her loins; she felt faint. The dog was whining noisily, his tongue working like a long, leathery belt washing at her quim. She could feel the rawness of her flesh wearing away by the rough, sandpapery surface of the canine's tongue.
"See if he'll fuck her! Put him up on her back!"
Mary's buttocks snapped tightly together. She pried open her eyes and stared back. The boys were lifting the dog up, his heavy chest resting on her spine. They placed his paws around her waist.
"God, not that!" she moaned, her eyes transfixed on the long red sheath of the dog's cock that waved dramatically between her legs.
"Put it in for him," Ben ordered.
"I ain't gonna touch it."
"Me, either."
"You hold him there, then. I'll do it."
Mary's faced drained of blood. Her mouth was a desert as she watched Ben trying to grasp the dog's long, slippery dong. Bruno snarled, his haunches hunching toward her, his hot drool dropping onto her back like acid.
The yellow drop of semen grew larger as the dog whined and humped, his heavy paws frantically trying to hook under her stomach.
There was something bizarre about the way his furry flesh met hers. She cringed and yet ... It was difficult for her to imagine that the dog's touch wasn't as repulsive as she had expected. It wasn't his fault, she thought. It was only doing what nature told it to. There was preconceived sin on its mind. No ability to reason. No guilt afterward.
"I got it," Ben said, forcing the red sliver of the dog's lance-shaped cock toward Mary's pulsing hole.
"NOOOOOO!!!"
She let the scream rip out even as Ben slid Bruno's cock into her. She gasped, her heart stopping for an instant as the long, pointed spear impaled her.
It was a smooth, gentle entry, quite unlike either the boys' or Bob's. The dog undulated, its haunches humping rapidly, a deep growl warding off the curious boys who were trying to crawl under her and watch.
Mary gasped again as the sharp tip reamed against her cervix. She sucked in a deep breath of cleansing air and braced herself as Bruno's jerking prick lanced into her again.
"Ahhhhhh ..."
The dog licked at her back, his tongue cutting a wet path up her spine as he pushed the heavy sheath of his cock through the tight pudding of her twat. Her snatch was snapping now. The firm, textured muscles grabbed at the penis, squeezing the shank as it slithered in and out. Her ears became deaf to the boys' words, listening only to the dog's hot panting breath and occasional growl that kept the boys from getting too close.
Her own tongue licked out, trying to catch a patch of tit flesh that dangled nearby. She rocked back, gasping as the full length of the rod scorched through her flaming cunt.
"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-AH!"
Her guttural sounds were timed to the dog's lunges. She felt herself climbing up the furry wall of pleasure, her fingers reaching for the top that was soft and fleshy and slick in her palms. She buried her face in the wet, dank wildness of the thought, imagining her nose and ears and face submerged in the hot, fleshy slickness of the dog's sex.
Her body brushed the fur, the tiny hairs rubbing up against her asshole, tickling the sphincter, making her mouth open and deep sounds gush out of her dry lips. Higher and higher she slipped up the wall of the dog's sexual bludgeoning. She sensed the nearness of her explosion, automatically tightening her cunt, squeezing hard against the thickening stem that rambled through the glove of her sopping pussy.
Bruno let out a yelp. His haunches trembled as he pressed hard against her, his body jerking spasmodically. She swished her hips, her asscheeks snapping together, her tongue licking out and swiping at the rich, mellow flesh of her hot tits.
A hot gust of come burst into her. She screamed and sank back, her errant muscles spasming as her own body sprayed its juices onto Bruno's endless stream of semen.
She felt something thick bulging the sides of Bruno's cock. It was like a piston driving up the length of the cock, stretching her cunt like a lazy piece of rubber. She ground back, her body making the prick corkscrew deeper into her as the bulge inched along Bruno's cock. The dog was motionless, its body tense, paws scrabbling to keep hold of her waist.
The knot moved closer and closer to the tip. She felt it like a hot fist, ramming deeper and deeper until it shot out, almost crumpling her.
Bruno let out a deep wail, his hips jerking madly. She rammed back, another orgiastic wave of pleasure grabbing her by the fork of the thighs and lifting her into that furry well of sensual madness from which she had just fallen.
Again and again Bruno jabbed her, rekindling the orgasms until she lay exhausted, her lower lip bleeding from gnashing her teeth, her cunt numb from the endless sawing of the dog's rapier-like cock.
"Jesus!" Ben's voice was high-pitched and humble. "God, I've never seen ..."
Bruno's jabs became slower. He was panting heavily, his narrow chin resting on her spine. Slowly, he unlocked his paws from around her and stood back, the length of his slick dong slipping from her semen-loaded twat.
Mary rolled onto her back, her face dripping with sweat, her eyes red and rolling drunkenly in their sockets. Bruno advanced, standing over her stomach, licking at the mat of pubic hair covered with his semen.
She lay wistfully watching him as his long, leisurely tongue worked to cleanse her sodden cunt.
"Come on, Bruno." Ben reached for the dog's collar. Bruno bared his teeth, snarling at the boy. Ben jumped back.
"Looks like Bruno kinda likes Sister Liz," Harry said, popping some M&M's into his mouth.
"Bruno!" Ben reached again for the dog. He growled, then reluctantly stepped away from Mary.
"Damn," Ben said, his face screwed up into a frown. "Damn dog thinks he's a stud now. Thinks he's a real stud."
Mary closed her eyes. She tried to move her legs. They were sore and numb.
"May I have a drink of water?"
Harry went to the wet bar and splashed some water into a glass. He held it to her lips.
The excitement that had hung like an electrical storm moments before vanished. The boys drifted to the stairs, climbing into their clothes, throwing glances at Mary and Bruno. Even Ben seemed cooler, concerned.
"You really dug him, didn't you?"
Mary's fingers shook as she held the glass. Her wrists were bruised from the rope that Harry had just taken off her.
"I had no choice."
Ben stroked Bruno's head. The big shepherd was sitting on his haunches, his ears perked toward Mary, his tongue lolling from the side of his thick jaws.
"What are you going to do?" Ben asked curiously, something in his voice hinged with concern.
"Do?" Mary rubbed her swollen wrists and untied the ropes around her ankles. "I can't do anything, can I? Won't you all lie about what happened? Isn't it just my word--an ex-nun--against yours?"
Ben nodded in agreement. "That's right. Nobody would believe you anyway. I mean, we know what kind of things our parents would believe."
Mary wore a tired smile. Her eyes held Ben's softly. "I don't think you know your own sin," she said calmly. "I don't think you realize where you're heading."
"Don't feed us full of Biblical shit," Harry snorted, emptying the few remaining candies from the bag and popping them into his mouth. "We know you're just a hot box."
"You don't really think I enjoyed this, do you?"
She glanced from one face to another. The boys weren't laughing. Instead, they wore a masked, peculiar expression.
"You do, don't YOU?" She tried to climb to her feet. Her weak legs buckled, sending her back to the floor. Bruno rose to his feet, eyes alert, nose sniffing. Then he settled back down on his haunches.
Mary's voice rose as she spoke. "All of you think I liked it. Don't you? You think I liked having a bunch of snotty-nosed kids mauling me. Tying me up. Putting their . . . their . . . things in my mouth. Touching me in my private places. Putting wooden handles up me. You really think I liked that? You really think I thought it was fun?"
Tears smarted her eyes. The boys were backing up the stairs, all except Ben and Harry. Mary stood, her eyes angry, her tits riding high and free, the nipples stiffening as she grew angrier.
"You little shits. You dirty little shits. You think you can use me, huh? You think you can just rape me like this and get away with it? Without any recourse? I'll show you," she warned, heading toward one of the boys. He scampered up the stairs. "I'll show you," she screamed as they slammed the door firmly behind them.
She wheeled around, eyes leveled on Harry and Ben. "You're the two instigators. You trapped me here. You lured me," she hissed, her naked body streaked with semen, her hair matted and frayed like a witch.
Harry moved behind Ben. Ben held Bruno's collar tightly, his face tense, mouth a thin, drawn line.
"You're crazy," he said. "You're fucking crazy."
She threw back her head and laughed. "Look at me! Look at me! Shouldn't I be crazy? Well," she shouted, "shouldn't I be?"
"Butt out," Ben said, trying to make his voice authoritative.
"And why should I? Why shouldn't I scratch your little eyes out? Both of you. Tell me why I shouldn't do that?"
"You better not touch us, lady," Ben said with a shaky voice, backing up, pulling Bruno with him. "I'll sic Bruno on you."
Mary laughed again. "You 'think Bruno will protect you? Who was he protecting a few minutes ago? That's right! Me! He wouldn't do a thing."
Ben jerked Bruno's chain toward her. "Get her, boy! Get her!" Bruno scratched the back of his ear, looking playfully at Mary.
"Well?" Mary folded her arms across her chest, her bare foot tapping on the rug.
"Don't you touch us," Harry said in a falsetto voice. "I mean it. Don't you touch us."
Mary threw back her head and laughed. "The two tough rapists. The little tigers suddenly turned kittens. If I wanted to touch you, I would."
"I'm afraid, Ben."
Ben pushed back at Harry's sniveling face. "Don't let her scare you. She's all bluff."
"Bluff!" Mary's eyes slitted. "Bruno," she snapped. "Come here!" The dog broke away from Ben, tail-wagging toward her, his nose sniffing at her cunt. She patted the dog and pulled him to her side.
"So," she sneered, "you think I'm bluffing, huh?" She walked toward Ben who was backing up. He reached for the tomahawk lying on the floor, raising it in a threatening position. Bruno snarled. Ben checked the instrument, letting it slowly drop to his side.
"Now I'm going to show you how it feels to be abused," she said, dropping to her knees in front of Ben, her eyes fixed on the boy's shrunken prick. "I'm going to show you how it feels to be used and debased, you little shit!"
"You better not hurt me," Ben said, his voice obviously shaken by the turn of the screw. "I mean it, lady, you better not hurt me!"
"What happened to Sister Liz?" she snapped. "You're being a little too careful, Benny boy. Afraid now of the teacher? Afraid of the poor old ex-nun?"
"You're wacky," Ben said, backing away.
"Don't move!" Something in her voice made Ben freeze. He looked at Bruno. The dog was watching Harry, who was trying to sneak around behind Mary. Bruno let out a low growl that made Harry stop instantly.
"No, little man," Mary said, reaching out and grabbing him by the wrist, "I'm going to show you what it feels like."
She pulled the boy toward her. His smooth flesh trembled as she ran her fingers over his bare, hairless chest.
"How does that feel? Hum? Are you embarrassed? Ashamed?"
Ben said nothing. His teeth gnashed angrily. The small fists were balled into two clubs at his sides as Mary ran her fingers down his narrow hips.
"Such youthful flesh," she said, her voice softening as she pushed her face closer to the boy's genitals. Her tongue lanced out, tenderly licking at the soft stub of his cock. Ben flinched.
"You don't like it this way, do you, Ben?" she said, her heart beating faster now that conquest was hers. A strange feeling of power coursed through her, seeming to give her strength she had never had before.
"You have a nice little cock. Not like a man's, but nice for a little boy." She plucked the still-soft tool between her thumb and forefinger, peeling the foreskin away and exposing the wet, round slit of his pecker.
"You want me to lick it, don't you. Benny? You want old Sister Liz to put her hot lips on it and suck it down her throat, don't you?"
Ben tried to step back. She squeezed the pecker firmly, halting him. "You better not hurt me," he warned.
"Hurt you? Oh, no. Just like you didn't hurt me," she said, the powerful drive of commanding the boy gripping her. She worked her tongue out, wrapping it around Ben's staff, teasing his small cock-slit with the tip of her baby-pink tongue.
"Ummmm," she said, reaching back and fondling the globes of his tight ass. "You're so strong." She tracked her finger down the slit of his buttcheeks. He twitched toward her as her little finger found his small asshole.
"You like that, Benny?"
He shook his head. "Don't touch me there."
She placed her lips over his penis, sucking it firmly into her mouth. The little nubbin grew firm between her teeth. She ran her fingers down his buttocks again, this time spreading the cheeks, then closing them together with the palms of her hands.
"I'm going to save you, Benny," she said, rubbing her cheek against his stiffening dong. "I'm going to show you how it feels, and then you'll understand how wrong you are. You see, I love you. I love you deep down inside. I want to help you. This will help you understand what you did to me was wrong."
She opened her thick, sensuous lips and covered his prick and balls with her mouth. Her jaws ached, trying to cover every inch of his genitals. Tiny strands of peach fuzz brushed against her tongue as she rolled the balls and cock onto the flat of her tongue. The pole grew larger, thudding against the roof of her mouth. She sucked slowly, tugging at the pole until she felt the foreskin peeling all the way off the small head.
"I owe you this," she said, taking the small dick in her hands and rubbing it over her eyes and nose. "I owe you this pleasure. I owe you the awareness of sin. Do you feel it, Benny?"
Ben's hands shook. He placed them on her shoulders, the fingers digging into her soft flesh. "I don't want you to do that to me," he wheezed. "You better stop. I don't like you to do that to me!"
His voice was short and choppy. She could hear his troubled breath and feel the heat of his blood pounding through the small stem she held between her lips.
He tasted good. She felt his fresh, innocent body against hers and took his hands, guiding them down to the swollen piles of her jugs. His fingers fumbled as she pressed them against the rock-hard nipples.
Her body was tingling. Bruno, sensing something brewing, began to whine. She felt his cold nose brushing against her buttocks and a paw scraping at her spine. She lifted her ass, letting the dog's nose wedge down into the fork of her thighs. Bruno's tongue lapped out, its surface sparking her clitoris.
She ran her hands around Ben's buttocks, the fingers searching for the crease in his butt, finding it, massaging the two globes of his youthful ass.
Her lips munched down on his stiff shaft, sucking the pole back until her lips were jammed against his hard pelvis.
"Don't do that," Ben muttered, his hips twisting and grinding into her. She guided the motion with her hands, occasionally nudging him against her with pressure to his spasming asshole.
"Don't," the youth grunted, his head thrown back, fingers digging roughly into her titties. She rocked him, her body swaying back and forth. Bruno's tongue lapped hungrily at her weeping slit, washing the dripping juices from her thighs. She felt her body trembling. The sense of power grew greater and greater as her lips sucked and the dog's tongue lapped faster.
"You bitch," Ben wheezed. "You dirty old perverted bitch!"
His words incited her, for she knew why they were thrown at her. She sucked harder. The boy's hips slammed against her face. She worked her fingertip deeper into his butt, driving him against her. Bruno's tongue whipped wildly at her swollen cunt. She felt the muscles balling, the knots growing intense, then suddenly bursting.
Ben let out a cry. His fingers nearly ripped her nipples off as he leaned back, jabbing into her mouth with the spitting tip of his pecker.
She reamed his asshole with her finger, twisting it until the boy's last drops had been swallowed. Then she let him go and watched as though in slow motion how he fell back with a thud onto the deeply carpeted floor.
"Man, are you in trouble," she heard Harry say and turned to look at the boy. He held a camera in his hands-a small Polaroid.
"Man, is your ass in a sling now," he repeated before he ran like a greased pig up the stairs.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"What are you going to do with those pictures?"
Ben brushed himself off and climbed to his feet. He looked at his red penis, then at Mary.
"Just some insurance," he said coldly, "that you'll keep that mouth of yours shut. So don't go trying any more of that I'll-tell-your-parents' bullshit."
Mary buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She felt dirty all over. Bruno was lying at her side, his furry head resting on the inside of her thigh.
"You get out. And take that bastard with you!" Ben grabbed his pants and shoved his thin legs into the jeans.
"Your dog?"
"He ain't mine anymore. I'll kill the sonofabitch. He turned on me. I'll kill him if he stays here."
"But I... "
Ben threw her clothes at her. "You take him. And get out. And keep your mouth shut."
She watched him climb the stairs. Bruno looked up at her, his big brown eyes warm and friendly, the pink tip of his tongue lolling out past the black-gummed mantle of his mouth.
"I guess I don't have any choice," she said, pushing herself up and putting her clothes on. "I guess, Bruno, I don't have any choice at all."
The rest of the week dragged by. Each morning she cringed at the thought of facing the class of boys who had attacked her. They were surprisingly secret about what had happened, saying nothing nor tantalizing her as she had expected. If anything, the class could be called model except for Harry, who continued to break the school's rule about eating during the instruction period.
She wished that the boys would say something, anything about it since she waited each second for them to giggle or burst out with a nasty comment. Instead, they remained muffled about the incident. Ben, who had a mesmeric control over the group, had apparently told everyone to cool it.
She wondered why, growing more restless by the day.
It was late Friday afternoon when Dave Smith stuck his head in her door and called her name.
"May I see you in my office, Mary?"
Mary's heart tripped. Her first thought was the picture. Hands trembling, she brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, worked a smile onto her face and followed Smith toward his office.
Maureen was putting her typewriter to sleep when they entered the administration office. The small, petite woman threw Mary a knowing smile, then let it drip down into a sneer.
"I'm finished," she said. "I'll see you all Monday."
Mary felt the ice in her voice as Smith nodded and showed Mary into the plush, hushed office. "Care for a drink?"
He stood at a small cabinet, pulled it opened and fished out a bottle of Scotch. "No thank you."
"You mind if I have a short one? Friday is a day of grace for me." She watched him rattle some ice cubes into the glass and pour a healthy measure of the amber liquor.
"Sit down, Mary, for goodness sake. You look like a statue standing there."
He waved toward the couch. Mary took the seat, hands folded on her lap, trying to hide her shakiness. He was very distinguished, she thought. His graying hair was silverish around his temples. And his face was richly tanned. He had deep, penetrating blue eyes that when turned on her, seemed to be looking right through her. His voice was soft and gentle-very soothing and relaxing. If he had been a Father, she would have felt comfortable confessing to him. But right now he wasn't a Father. He was standing with his drink, facing her, studying her. She had an urge to come out and tell him what had happened, then checked herself as he spoke.
"I'm very happy with the work you've done so far, Mary," he said, lighting a cigarette. His face was shrouded in a cloud of hazy blue smoke. Mary let out a deep breath, thankful that he wasn't going to talk about the boys and the picture.
"Yes, I'm very happy indeed. You've been running a model class, I'm told. The boys seem to have taken a liking to you, something-" he paused, pulling at the drink- "that they rarely have done in the past with a woman teacher." Mary's face paled.
"You look unhappy, Mary? Is anything troubling you?"
"Oh, no, sir. I'm just tired. Working hard." She conjured a weak smile and crossed her legs. The short skirt revealed her long, rich thighs. She settled back against the couch, her back melting against the thick leather rolls.
"You've done a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn on your dress," he said admiringly, his eyes inching up her legs to her pouting knockers that spiked out against the low-cut top of the mini.
"Yes," he added, freshening his drink, "I've been watching the metamorphosis--hope you don't mind my using that word--and I think it's good for you. You are a very attractive young woman, you know."
"Thank you."
She tried to avoid his eyes. They were like two magnets reaching out and drawing her attention. Already she could feel her tits thawing from the fear of discovery. They began to tingle, then burn in the firm, cupped enclosure of the bra. Her lips were dry. She dusted them with the tip of her tongue, fighting the rising temperature within her.
"I mean that, Mary. You have this--well, let's call it a sense of innocence about you. A freshness. Like a flower that has just opened. I mean, you wear little makeup. You don't need it. Your skin is rich and smooth, your features delicately carved."
He moved toward her as he spoke, his lips quietly working over the adulations as his eyes massaged her up-turned jugs. He took a seat next to her, his arm sliding onto the back of the couch. She stiffened, sitting up.
"I ... I have an appointment, Mister Smith. I mean ... if there's anything else ..."
"Yes," he said, reaching out and touching the flaxen strands of her hair. "I would expect that you would have many men interested in you. I mean, a woman of your natural grace and beauty. A woman with such a seductive nature."
Mary stood abruptly, her hands shaking, her mouth twitching. She tried to smile, desperate to hide the hot churning that was beginning in her groin.
"I ... I think I better go, Mister Smith."
"No," he said coolly, "I think you had better stay, Miss Martin. Sit down!"
His voice was sharp, authoritative. She sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, hands folded firmly on her knees. Her ears rang. Blood thundered through her veins, racing to her hot spiked nipples, pooling in her groin.
"I have something to give you, Mary. Something I've wanted to give you ever since I first saw you. You see, it's my policy to give all my instructors something deeply personal. And I wouldn't want you to be the only one on the staff without something."
"I appreciate that," she said softly, her eyes avoiding his.
"A little difficult to appreciate something you've not yet received, Mary. You see, I don't want you to think that the expensive salary you receive is based entirely on your academic background. Nor would I want you to think that the allowance you have--non-taxable, of course--for your car and living expenses was a gift out of the goodness of the school's heart. Do you understand what I'm talking about?"
Mary shook her head negatively. "No! I mean, I just never thought about it."
He laughed. "You didn't think it strange that you received such a handsome check every two weeks? Or that you had a generous allowance to purchase clothes and a car?"
"No."
He stood and refilled his glass, laughing softly to himself. "I find it unbearably humorous, Mary, that you should be so naive. I mean, really, was it that cloistered in the nunnery?"
Mary's palms were wet sheets pressing tightly together. She stood, her eyes nervously flicking from the door to Smith.
"I want to leave!"
"Sit down," he snapped. She swallowed hard, settling down frigidly on the edge of the couch.
"I don't want to be here," she said weakly. "Please, let me go home."
Smith moved to the door and locked it. "You whine nicely, Mary. I like the way you whine. Like a little girl. Do you know I like little girls?"
Mary folded her arms tightly over her chest. She felt naked in the slinky dress. His eyes undressed her again.
"I said I like little girls, Mary," he repeated. "Little girls like you with big, wide, innocent eyes and nice plump tits. Little girls with succulent mouths and ripe red tongues. Little girls with thin, fleshy thighs and curved asses. Does all that fit you, Mary?"
"Please, Mister Smith. Don't talk to me that way. Please?"
"Does it hurt you? I mean, does it make your ears burn? Or does it insult you? Which, Mary?"
"It's . . . it's vulgar ..."
"Oh, yes. And dirty, too, I suppose. That's what makes it so exciting. I mean, you will agree that the best sex is dirty sex, won't you?"
Mary shuddered. He inched closer, his face flexing, brows crunching together to form a silvery, caterpillar line across his brow.
"I'd like to see your body, Mary. Will you please take off your dress?"
She shook her head, leaning back defensively. "No. I just don't believe what you're saying. You can't make me--"
"But I can." He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a piece of stiff paper, turning it toward her. She looked at it, tears forming in her eyes as it came into focus.
"Any teacher who would do this to poor little boys . . . Tch, tch, Mary. A girl could go to prison for something like this. Just imagine what a jury would do. I shudder to think of it myself. Now, would you mind taking them off-or shall I?"
"But you don't understand. They raped me! They tied my hands and feet ..."
Smith laughed. "Oh yes, right here in this picture they raped you. I can see ropes tied all around you. And that dog. Well, of course he tied you."
"No. I mean, that was before. They made me do it! God, they ..." She broke down into tears, her face buried in the wet palms of her hands.
"Your little secret is safe with me, Mary. Believe me," he said in soothing tones, "I will keep this picture in a very safe place. I've already spoken to Ben and Harry about you. You see, as Ben's uncle, he respects what I tell him. And I've told him not to worry about you anymore."
"His uncle?"
"Oh, yes. Ben and I are very close. As are all the boys here. We're a close family and want nothing to come between us. The boys were very afraid of you, Mary. They thought that maybe you had a-how did they say it-ah yes, a screw loose. I told them I would straighten everything out. Now, Mary, let's do what Mister Smith advises. Take them off."
"And if I don't?" She was surprised at the boldness of her question.
"Do you have any idea what prison is really like? All those queer little dollies running around shoving broomsticks up their cunts. All those butches beating you to submission. You wouldn't last the first afternoon, Mary. But that's all nasty thinking. Let's be positive. I'm really quite easy to please. And it should be rewarding. I mean--" he pushed the picture toward her again--"just look at Ben's tiny prick. How could you possibly have enjoyed that?"
Mary's eyes locked on the picture. She could see the small pecker between her lips. She could almost still taste its salty flavor warmly resting between the "O" of her sensual lips.
"You like them, don't you?"
Her attention snapped to Smith. "I don't know what you mean."
"Young boys. It's written on your face. Are you afraid of a real man? Afraid they might give you more than you can handle?"
"That's ridiculous. I don't know what you're talking about," she blurted, looking away. Still, in her mind, she could feel Ben's penis rolling over her wet lips and sense his firm asscheeks trapped in the kneading palms of her hands.
"It really doesn't matter, Mary. Not for us. Take them off!"
She shrank back as his hands reached out for her. "You really are persistent. You fuck a dog, blow the kids and won't let me touch you. Now, think about that, Mary!"
His hands clamped on her shoulders, dragging her up. He pressed her firm body against his and kissed her hard, his lips parting and licking at hers. His hands worked her skirt up, fingers rubbing over the soft swell of her ass. She felt them wedging between her legs, searching over the nylon crotch of her cunt.
She tried to wrench free. His left arm was firmly around her neck, holding her squirming body against his. His fingers searched under her legs, finding and stroking the warm, puffy lips of her cunt.
"You like the dog better, that it?" He grabbed the front of her dress and yanked. She fell back, her hands covering the exposed flesh.
"Don't touch me," she hissed. "Don't put your hands on me again."
He laughed and reached for her, catching her wrist and spinning her around. Again he clawed at the torn dress, ripping it away from her body. She stood in her high heels, panties and bra, her hair tousled, her mouth turned down in a sneer.
"You bastard. You filthy old bastard!"
"Nasty, nasty," he said, wiping a film of sweat from his forehead. He danced around her like a wrestler, his arms outstretched, head low, eyes fixed on her threatening fingernails that were curved into two, talon-like weapons.
"I'll fight you," she warned. "I don't care if you kill me, I'll fight you."
"Good," he growled, circling her into a corner. She looked behind, saw the two walls blocking her escape and bolted to one side. He dived, hitting her in the waist with his shoulder and sending her sprawling to the floor, her legs flailing in the air.
Before she could get up he was on top of her, pinning her arms above her head, shoving his face down onto hers and kissing her hungrily.
She tried to spit out the thick worm of his tongue. It filled her mouth, roughly driving down to the back of her throat. She clamped down hard with her teeth. He let out a cry and sat up, his hands forming a fleshy ring of fingers around her throat. Her breath came hard as his thumbs and forefingers closed down on her windpipe. She tried to pry his wrists away, but he held her fast, the fingers cutting off more and more of her air.
"So fragile," he said finally, letting loose. "I could break you into tiny pieces so easily. But I don't have to, do I? Do I?"
She gasped, the finger welts burning around her throat. She rubbed the sore skin, her eyes doe-like and frightened pools staring at him in awe.
"Now that we've both played rough, Mary," he said with shortened breath, "let's call a truce."
He slid his hands around her back and unlatched the bra, peeling it off to expose her ripe mounds. The excitement had made the nipples rise, their coral tips brightly springy to his touch. She was still rubbing her neck as he thumbed her nipples.
"Such a lovely body," he crooned, his mouth touching the hard nipples. She felt his tongue brush the tips and his teeth capturing the eraser-like nubbins. She gasped, her body tingling, her eyes watching his lips munching around the tittie.
"Please don't hurt me?" Her voice was ragged. A sharp pain shot from her neck.
He stepped off her, hooked his fingers into the elastic band of her panties and slid them off. She watched, her body still trembling from the struggle, as he shed his clothes. His shorts stood out, his erection tenting them as he worked them down, revealing the short, thick, rigid cock.
"Stand up!"
Afraid, half-dazed, she reached for his outstretched hand and pulled herself to wobbly knees. He led her toward the desk. "Lean against it."
He took her hands when she hesitated and placed them on the edge of the desk, pulling her feet back and spreading them so she was spraddled much like a suspect ready to be searched by the police.
"What are you going to-"
"Just relax, Mary. I'm going to show you that a man is better than boys or dogs."
He knelt between her legs, his face turned up, his hands spread. She shook violently, her knees bending outward as he hooked his thumbs into her pussy and spread the pink portals apart.
"Don't," she whispered prayer-like. "For God's sake, don't do this to me!"
He was already panting, his nostrils collapsing as he stuck out his long, pointed tongue and teased the exposed nub of her clit. She gasped, a mellow weakness running through her. Her bones became jelly as he worked the tongue back and forth over her clitoris, slowly at first, then more rapidly until she too was breathing heavily.
"Don't . . . God . . . don't . . . please . . . stop . . . please . . . Harder . . . God . . . harder . . . stick it in . . . make it stop . . . lick it. . . SUCK IT!"
She babbled the words as her mouth grew drier and drier. Her guts cinched up. The cheeks of her ass ground slowly over his face, trying to sink down and suck up the tantalizing tongue that whipped her closer and closer to an orgasm. When she thought she would come, he stopped, biting hard at the inside of her thigh, leaving a large red welt.
"Ouch!"
The orgasm sank back, only to be teased once more to the surface by his tongue. She snapped her pussy, trying to grab the tongue, to hold it long enough for her body to squeeze out the maddening lust that held her in its manacles. When she tried to move her hands to reach down and finish herself with her finger, she felt herself falling forward and caught herself.
"God, do it! Do it! Fuck me! FUCK ME, DAMN IT!" The cry rang loudly from her sore throat. She shook her head angrily, the short strands of her hair shaking violently. She tried moving her thighs together, but that too was impossible the way she was leaning.
His tongue plunged into her cunt. She held it for a fraction, jerking her hips into him, trying to jack fast enough to make herself come. But he pulled away, nipping at her thigh, killing the orgasm with pain, shoving it back into a tortured corner of her id.
She felt something firm against her ass. He slid his hands up her swollen butt, his fingers pulling the cheeks apart, stretching the tight anus. She gasped as his little finger pressed against her ass-button. She leaned forward, legs stiff, arms trembling from holding her weight in that position. If she fell, she would smash her face on the heavy-oak edge of the desk, so she shoved back, pushing herself more upright and avoiding the possible danger of falling.
His finger was working around in a circle, pressing its way into her gulping asshole. She felt her bowels filling with its tip. It slid in a fraction, then out.
Between her legs his tongue still tantalized, its tip fluttering like the wings of a butterfly over the engorged tip of her clit.
"Hurry," she panted, her colon trying to expel the finger. "God, fuck me! Fuck me! I have to come. I HAVE TO COME!"
She was panting, her up-turned tits heaving as she tried to suck down enough air. Every pore was opened, anticipating the final burst of passion, only to be thwarted by his teeth digging into her thigh flesh.
She moaned, unaware that he had moved from beneath her. She tossed back her head and let out a wail, begging him to lick her come out of her. Then she felt his absence beneath her and looked over her shoulder.
Smith stood with his stubby, thick cock in his hands, his eyes focused on her backside. She started to speak, but said nothing as he shoved the heavy head of his dong against her butthole.
"No!" She bit her lip, his weight against her making any movement on her part impossible. "Don't! Not that!"
"You'll love it, baby. You loved doing it to Ben. That wasn't nice of you. And Ben didn't like it, either."
"God, it'll kill me! Please, don't!"
She knew her cries were helpless, as they had been from the outset. Her nails dug into the wooden desk. Her teeth gnashed angrily as she felt him shoving the greased tip of his cock against the tiny opening.
A series of hot, searing flashes burned into her mind. Her colon was being shoved apart, the hard ring of cartilage forced far beyond its intended width. He kept one hand stroking her cunt, the fingers gently teasing her body, keeping her orgasm within a quick lick.
"Nooooo!" She felt her nails driving into the wood. The cock had wormed its way into her asshole, the head firmly fixed inside her. Smith grunted, moving his hips until the head began to slide.
"GAAAWWWWW!!!"
Her mouth hung hinged. Hissing sounds rushing past her wet, sensuous lips as he worked his hips in wider and wider gyrating circles. She gasped. The thick prick screwed slowly into her, stroking with it a growing flash of pain. She panted. Her lungs arched as she sucked deeply, trying to cleanse the exhaustion rampaging through her.
His hands still toyed with her hot clit. She fought now the growing restlessness of her twat as the assault became another measure of sexual excitement.
No longer did his prick hurt. Replacing the pain was a soft, luxurious feeling of being filled with his flesh. She shook her head, trying to banish the excruciating pleasure that his contact bore.
"Come, Mary! Ah," he wheezed, his mouth slipping over her smoothly curved back, "ah, I want you to come in my hand. I want your ass to suck my dick into your stomach. Squeeze, Mary. Squeeze your tight little ass."
His right hand slipped up her trembling stomach, the fingers reaching for and finding the soft, doughy underside of her pendulous tit. She gasped as his cool fingers caught the hot, distended nipple, rolling it leisurely between the pads. His cock was slipping and sucking into her bowels. She could feel the involuntary action of her asscheeks snapping together, biting down against the turgid intruder.
"Ah," he moaned, his fingers fluttering over her clitoris. "Yes, Mary," he gasped, "that's it. More! Grind back! Hump me, honey! That's it. Twist it around! You dirty little bitch, that's it. Ass-fuck me!"
Tears stung her eyes. She heaved in a deep breath, fighting the repugnance of his words, fighting the crazy impact it had on her brain as he wheezed out the foul encouragement. Yet she couldn't fight the strong desire to follow. Her cunt was roiling; a veritable muscular storm roared inside her womb. She felt the fingerlike muscles snapping together, gnashing against empty walls, hungrily begging for something to squeeze between the puffed and palpitating pudding of her cunt.
His fingers tantalized her more. They caught her clit, rubbing the soft, pliable piece of flesh until she felt her pores exploding, and huge, watermelon drops of sweat dripping from her armpits.
"Grind back, baby! Ass-fuck me! You'll love it! Give it to me!"
His voice was mantled with anger. She crunched her teeth together, trying to fight the dying battle. Sobbing softly, she felt her hips pressing back. She heard herself grunt as the cheeks of her ass first relaxed, then clenched tightly around his swollen shaft. Again her ass made a tight circular motion, tempered with his grinding motions. She gasped again, this time the pain ebbing and a newer, wilder sensation flooding her brain. She let the length of his cock sear into her again and again, each time meeting his lunge with a backward slap that resounded with a fleshy "suck-slap . . . suck-slap . . . suck-slap ..." of his balls against the round softness of her buttcheeks.
"Damn, good ... Mary ... baby ... " His staccato words beat against her brain. She jammed herself back, letting out a wail as the full length of his cock slammed against her bladder. She shook off the pain, humping, her ass flashing against his pelvis.
"More!" she shouted, her body sparking, the hot, angry flames of passion licking at her tits, her clit, her ass. She rammed back, planting her ass on the stump of his cock, twisting and twitching her butt so that the sides of his prick brushed every nervous inch of hot asshole.
"NOW! NOW!" She felt her nails digging deep into the wooden desk top as she screamed. "FUCK ME! FUCK ME!"
Her ass swished back, caught his plunging prick, and squeezed. His fingers drove up her twitching twat. She ground down and back simultaneously, her body shivering. The pink tip of her tongue danced out to dust her dry lips. She threw back her head and screamed again, her knees shaking, the tips of her toes digging into the pile carpeting and bracing herself as she threw her ass back against his cock-pole.
"AHHHHGGGGHHHHH!"
A hot, burning stream of come poured into her colon. She felt her muscles freeze. The tight glove of her pussy became a knotted fist, strangling Smith's deeply planted fingers. She let out another scream as her body belched, the hot liquids gushing from her cunny, fluids spraying around his knuckles as she felt the insides of her organs being torn from her.
His fingers slowly slipped from the smoky portals of her cunt. She hung her head, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving as she sucked in great gulps of air. His prick was still planted in her ass. She felt his body pushing away, relieving the heavy weight which she had borne throughout the assault. Her knees sprung back, making her own weight and awkward position seem weightless.
Slowly, her body tingling with the aftermath of the orgasm, he pulled the wasted length of his penis from her. She bit her lip, not wanting to say it, not wanting to offer it, but she couldn't stop it from passing her lips.
"Please," she whined, her body setting afire again. "Please don't take it out! Please, for God's sake, do it again! I need it! I need it!"
And she began to wriggle her ass back against the cock, listening to the throaty laugh of Smith whose hands had clamped onto her throbbing tits and whose cock began to stiffen as she continued begging him for more!
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Bruno!"
Mary threw her arms around the dog, hugging his thick head and shoulders. She sat in the middle of her apartment, tears wetting her eyes.
"God, it was . . . awful," she said, brushing the dog's head. Bruno lapped at her face, catching her bare neck and part of her ear with his long, thick tongue.
"I didn't want to, Bruno. God, I didn't want to. I just couldn't help myself. You understand, don't you?"
The dog's eyes looked helplessly at her. She brushed her hand over his snout.
"If you could only talk to me," she said wetly. "I mean, if you could only talk to me about. . . but--" she paused--"you can't. . . you can't talk . . . you can't ..."
The dog had been good therapy these last few days, she thought. Or were they years? She wasn't sure anymore. The whole world had become a soggy, dank Dante's Hell to her with the sweeping motion of hours.
Strange lusts, carnivorous thoughts had been unleashed in her mind, now almost running free through her spirit, killing all the moral wisdom she once cherished. At night she would hug Bruno, curling up with him as though he might serve as a warning to the evil that was attacking her.
Or was it evil?
The confusion bothered her. What about Mother Superior? Hilda? Maureen? Harry? Ben? Smith? That beautiful black man?
Only Smith seemed mean. And yet, the last time ... She thought about the last time he entered her from the rear. It had been gentler. It had been smoother. They had fallen to the floor, she with her legs splayed, on her hands and knees, reaching up and fondling his balls. His voice had become smoother--yes, and more fatherly. His touch gentler and his lips delivered a restless passion that had swept through her and made his prick into a shining light of truth slamming into the dark tunnel of her unlighted ass.
The lights had gone on. The awareness was magnificent, but then afterwards, the sinking sensation of filth, the gutter thoughts that grew rank, robbing the pleasure and replacing it with guilt-ridden anxiety.
"No!"
She spoke aloud. Bruno jumped to his feet, his ears perked. She muttered to herself, "I can't let it happen again. It's not right. It can't be right. I know better. I know better!"
Her body ached. A nagging pain reached up from between her legs and touched her brain. She walked stiffly into the bedroom, peeling her blouse off as she went. Bruno followed.
She grimaced and reached behind her back to unlatch the bra. Her titties hurt where his fingers had dug into the soft flesh during his first attack. She let the mounds spill out and fondled them, looking at the sharp red welts.
Bruno whined. She looked into the dog's eyes, saw that they were focused between her naked thighs, and crossed her knees. For the first time since that incident with the boys, Bruno gave her the shivers.
"Please don't look at me like that," she said, suddenly aware of her nakedness. "Not you, too, Bruno. Please?"
The dog looked up. Its tongue lolled from the corner of its mouth. Its tail wagged.
"I'm going out of my mind," she said, a cold chill creeping up her back. "I'm just going out of my mind. I mean ..." she paused, looking at the dog squarely. "For a minute I thought maybe you were . . . you know . . . looking at me like I was some kind of . . . oh, hell. . . you're just a dog . . . just a dog ..."
Mary grabbed a towel and padded to the shower. She pulled back the curtain and adjusted the water. For a long time she stood, letting the fine stream pelt her in the face. Its loud, rushing noise filled her ears, drowning the curious and perplexing thoughts from her mind.
Smith had invited her-told her--to be ready for next Friday after school. That it was part of the deal. That she couldn't refuse. She wondered if she could. She had a choice. Her alternatives bothered her.
What would she do? Without a recommendation she would be unable to find another job. Without money she would . . . The water. She only wanted to feel the water drowning the past. The great baptismal water--the water that came from purity, washing away the sins of the past. Hadn't Mary Magdalene been cleansed? And wasn't her heart really pure? Her repentance deep and sincere?
She plucked the soap from the dish and ran the slick bar over her skin. She washed her breasts carefully, lifting the mounds high and working the suds around the rosy nipples until the tips stood firm and eraser-hard to her touch. Moving the soap down, she cleansed her legs, working her hands up into the soft, downy fork of her thighs.
Unconsciously, her fingers lingered at the damp portal to her cunt. She ran them lightly over the bruised nubbin of her clit, the slickened soap having a soothing action on the sore opening.
That strange, anxious sensation nibbled at her brain, sinking its nefarious teeth into her id. She felt the strong hands of desire closing around her groin, tightening as though to squeeze out any lingering ounce of lust. She shook her head and jerked her hands away.
Her breath was coming in short bursts, trying to fill her lungs and bolster her battle with her own lust. No. she thought, I won't let it win, I won't!
The curtain rustled. She flicked her eyes at Bruno's long snout sticking into the tub. The dog looked at her with those huge, saucer-shaped eyes. He hooked his paws onto the edge of the tub. She stared at him. His long tongue lapped out at her leg, striking her wet flesh like a hot poker. She flinched, the soap dropping from her hand with a thud.
Her back to the pounding water, she was a frozen statue staring at Bruno's thick head as the dog's tongue licked out again at the soapy surface of her pink flesh.
Electric sparks showered through every nerve as the dog clambered into the tub, shaking himself as the water beat against his fur. The heavy odor of his damp fur met her nostrils, making them twitch. It was a musky, deeply masculine scent. She sensed her body testing the odor, rolling it over in her mind, measuring it and enjoying the pleasure it brought.
She backed away slightly. Bruno inched forward, his legs spread to keep from slipping, his eyes turned up toward her pubic patch. She felt her lips turning to ice and her hands becoming useless lumps dangling helplessly at her sides. It was as though there were some magnetic waves pushing and pulling between woman and beast. She felt the deep inner tugging in her groin as that strange belt cinched tighter about her waist.
"No, Bruno!" she whispered. "No."
The dog lapped at her knee, his tongue swiping away the pearly, beaded droplets of water. Mary felt the bumps erupting as the tip of his tongue hit her inner thigh, lightly brushing the raw and tender lips of her snatch.
"Get out!" she said weakly, her body draining of strength. Her knees began to shake. A loud screaming rose in her ears as Bruno's innocent eyes stared at her crotch.
"Don't do that," she pleaded as Bruno cautiously inched forward, his tongue snaking out lizardlike and curling around the neat fold of her pussy.
Mary gasped. Her hands flew back against the wall, bracing herself as Bruno's nose nudged her stomach. She felt her legs buckle and splay out, exposing the full swipe of her cunt to the tongue.
"God, don't do it," she moaned, but even as she spoke, Bruno's tongue hit her clitty. She felt the engine of her lust coughing to life, and the topsy-turvy world of sexual enjoyment racing toward her.
"Please," she cried, unable to move. She looked down the valley of her tits and saw the dog's attention singularly fixed to the pink slit of her cunt. His tongue slithered out again, the long, curled tip wrapping like a pink bow onto the hot nipple of her clit.
Long, sharp tendrils of excitement snaked around her mind, squeezing her tired brain cells into a sexual madhouse. Every pore puckered as Bruno's deep, throaty growls smashed against her ears.
She slumped down, her bones mushy, her head spinning. Bruno backed away as she sank down into the tub, her thin neck rolling from one side to the other, her hands reaching down to part the pink portals of her cunt.
Bruno sniffed, then lanced his tongue out at the wet coral-colored offering. She let out a weak whimper, her eyes glazed and rolling lifelessly in their sockets. The pounding water beat against Bruno's head as he laid his ears back and began to lap with the stiff flat of his tongue.
"More," she heard herself moan, her breasts burning. The water pelted on her nipples, fine streams pounding on the hot tips, making them ache to be touched.
She shut her eyes and slid her hands up over her stomach, catching her throbbing mounds in her slender hands. The flesh was firm to her touch as she slid her fingers toward the hot nipples, teasing them with the sharp tip of her fingernail until she thought they would burst like balloons.
"Bruno! Bruno!"
She clutched the dog's ears, pulling his snout against her snatch, trying to drive the thick nose into her. She leaned down, licking out her tongue against his muzzle, trying to meet his embrace. He pulled away, diving his head once more toward her slit.
Her body afire, mind blanked to anything but her own sensual satisfaction, she fumbled under the dog, her fingers playing around the wet underside until she felt the sharp, slick pointed tip of his pecker.
The sheath of furry skin was hot as she cupped it in her hand and began to jack. Bruno was crouched, his chest against the bottom of the tub, his haunches up to allow her ministrations.
She brushed the tips of her hot tits against his fur, the sharp, short hairs spearing into her like little needles that made her body twist and twitch. She worked her other hand around the dog, jerking his cock with both hands, savoring the wideness of the canine's tongue licking and lapping at her cunt.
Bruno growled, his jaws duck-nipping at her cunt as though trying to catch some elusive flea. She gasped, the wild feeling racing through her like a bizarre fire.
Her hands moved from the dog's prick to his asshole. She jabbed her finger into the small opening. Bruno growled, his teeth and tongue nipping and driving her deeper and deeper into the sexual web.
"Fuck me! Fuck me!"
She yelled the words, her cunt screamed for something to plunge into it. Suddenly she jumped up, panting heavily, and climbed out of the shower. She grabbed Bruno by the collar and pulled him out of the bathroom.
Her body was hit by the cool air, sobering her for an instant as she dropped to her hands and knees on the rug and urged Bruno to mount her.
"Mount me, damn it!" she spat, angry at herself, anxious for the burning to be squelched in her loins. "Mount me!"
Bruno tried to back off, to sniff and lick. She reached back and grabbed his paws, locking them around her waist and humping. Her buttcheeks felt the rapier-tip of Bruno's cock swatting wildly against her flesh. She looked down, caught the lance-shaped prick and guided it to the throbbing pit of her passion.
Guiding it in, she held onto the sheath until Bruno's frantic hunches planted the long, pencil-shaped cock into her.
"GAAAHHHHH!!!"
A warm, luxurious cloak dropped over her as the tip wobbled loosely around her straining cunt. She began to work back against his erratic lunges, twisting herself to enjoy the full girth of the hot pecker.
"More! More!"
She felt the spittle leaking down the sides of her mouth as she humped back against Bruno's maddening thrusts. Occasionally she let out a cry of pain when the sharp tip slapped against her cervix, only to have it dissipate into a new flash of passion.
"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah ..."
Her cunt snapped shut about the knotting pecker. She braced herself, jacking the shaft rapidly, screaming for him to come. The ball of semen burst, spewing out the narrow tip of the dog's cock into the wet, whispering walls of her womb.
She lay, Bruno humping and squeezing out the last drops of semen, listening to the dog's heavy breathing against her back.
Another short orgasm rippled through her. She smiled, savoring its after-kissing effect, then slumped down and felt Bruno's prick slide out.
She fell asleep, her mind blanked of guilt and apprehension, and was only awakened to the ringing of the phone three hours later.
* * *
"Hello ..."
Her head ached. The water was still pounding in the shower so that she could barely hear the muffled voice on the other end of the line.
"Mary? This is Bob Walton. I've got to see you. My place."
Mary put the phone to her other ear. Bruno was sleeping on the foot of the bed, a large wet spot ringing his position.
"Who?"
"Bob Walton. It's an emergency. Can you come now?"
A few seconds of silence passed before the name and face fell into her muffled mind's eye. "You know better than to-"
"Look, it's an emergency! God, I need help! Please come!"
The voice sounded strange--urgent. She switched the receiver to her other ear.
"What is it?"
"I can't tell you. Just come! Will you come?" The voice was almost whining. She wasn't sure. Wasn't sure at all. "What can I do?"
"I need your help. Can you come?"
Mary looked at Bruno. He was twitching in his sleep, his hind foot outstretched. The clock said ten. She thought she heard something in the background on the other end.
"Mary? Will you come now?"
"I don't-"
"Please . . . God, I need you to help me ... "
"But I-"
"For God's sake, Mary. Come help me outta this mess ..."
"What can I-"
"Don't ask questions. Will you help or not?"
She paused. She could see his black face in her mind. She could smell his passion, see the anger of his race in his eyes, feel the conflict in his hard body against hers.
"All right," she said reluctantly, cradling the phone and wondering whether or not she had done the right thing.
She sat a long moment staring at Bruno's tired frame. Silently, a smile streaked her face as she reached out and stroked the dog's back. The fur cold, she draped a blanket over him, wondering why she didn't feel guilty.
But then, she thought, the dog had been only following instinct. And she--well, she had an excuse. Smith and the others. They had unbalanced her. They had triggered her into accepting sexual exploration. She had been helpless--but now, she felt strong again. Her mind grew muscular. She knew that Bob Walton couldn't hurt her. Nobody could hurt her again, not with the power of Bruno around.
How had it been, she thought, when the dog made love to her? Such a feeling. Her whole body had given of itself. Not like the others. No. She had given freely and totally to Bruno. It was such a deep feeling. Such a fantastic, exhilarating experience. She ran her fingers seductively once more around Bruno's ear, slowly tracking it along his parted jowl and feeling the warm side of the dog's tongue.
It would be their secret, she thought. Yes, a secret sin like the one Mother Superior had with that girl Hilda. Yes, it would be of the same order. A secret allegiance that no one would ever know about. Yes, she thought, slipping into the light-blue dress, yes, Bruno and I will keep ourselves a secret to the world. He is my gift of strength. My secret sharer.
She sneaked out of the bedroom and paused at the full-length mirror in the hallway to check her dress. She stood sideways, brushing some imaginary lint from the front of the sheer material. She sucked her smooth stomach in, jutting the haughty tips of her braless knockers into view. She ran her fingers slowly down to her narrow waist, then let them slip around the gentle swell of her hips to the smooth curvature of her firm butt.
Her tongue brushed out against her lips, wetting the thick pile of sensuous red war paint she had carefully placed there. The hint of mascara beneath her eyes offset the blandness of her short nose and gave her high cheekbones the just-right hint of accent.
She gazed momentarily at the low neckline that revealed the vibrant flesh of her mounds. The cleavage popped out at her invitingly. She ran her finger into the smooth, warm crack, wondering why her body prickled, then discounting it as quickly as she questioned it.
Bob Walton didn't frighten her. No, she thought. He was just a sad man. Sad like the others, trying to reach out and take her love away from her. No, she vowed. They could never have the precious commodity. It was something only she could give to those who really loved her in return. Like Bruno, she thought. Like Bruno's pure, primitive love for her.
CHAPTER NINE
The house was almost as dark as the neighborhood. She slid to a halt in front of it, killed the ignition and sat for a moment staring at the front door.
The black faces only occasionally glanced at her tonight when she entered the lower section of the city. It was probably too dark for them to notice, she figured as she stared at the ominous-looking house.
She shot a glance both ways down the sidewalk. It looked safe enough, so she slipped out of the car and moved up the walk toward the deserted-looking house. The door was half-open. She pushed on it and called.
"Bob? Are you home? Bob?"
Only the strange urgency of his voice made her walk into the house. Over the phone, she had sensed something wrong. It hadn't even sounded like Bob. She reached for a light switch.
"In here, Mary."
The voice was coming from the back of the house. She moved cautiously toward it. "Bob?"
"In here."
The bedroom was dimly lighted. She stood in the darkened hallway, her heart thudding noisily. Sweat covered her palms as she cinched her grip on the purse.
"You come out here, Bob."
"I can't!"
She inched closer, mincing her steps until she was almost at the doorway.
"Bob? Please let me see you?"
Silence. She felt something crawling up her spine. It sent bumps over her body and made her throat constrict.
"Please, Bob. What's the matter?"
"In here," the muffled tone repeated.
She moved another two feet toward the door. In the archway she stood, staring into the dimness, eyes trying to focus on a figure.
"Here!"
She turned, startled. "Hello!"
Mary started to back up. The young black boy held up his hand, signaling her to halt. She did. "Who--who are you?"
"Henry," he said nervously, lighting a cigarette. His black eyes jumped anxiously at a sound outside. "I met you the other day when you was here to see Bobby W."
"You're his brother?" She still felt the uneasy tension in the air--of distrust and fear.
"Yeah. But I need help, man. Real bad. I called you, see? Not Bobby W. I told you I was him, see? 'Cause I need your help."
Mary shook her head. "How can I help you?"
"Just tell 'em you was with me."
"Tell who?"
The young boy threw the cigarette to the floor and ground it out with his foot.
"The pigs. The fuzz. The cops. They'll be comin' any minute. I tell ya, I didn't do it. But they'll bust me anyway."
Mary was still confused. "Bust you for what?"
"Robbery. Couple of guys hit a liquor store. One of the guys had my jacket on. A special one. Lots of military ribbons. All Bob's--see? I mean, it's like a trademark. The sonofabitch set me up. I shoulda known."
"Set you up?"
The boy lit another smoke. She could see the tight-drawn face, the furtive eyes leaping at every creak in the house.
"Zimba. He's a Mau-Mau. Hates Bobby W. for white-washing. You know, teachin' those white motherfuckers. He set me up. Said he was proud'a my coat. Was gonna stud out a chick in it. Sheeit. Did I get took."
Mary shrugged. "I--I don't see how I can The boy moved toward her, his hands reaching out and grabbing her arms.
"You gotta tell 'em you was with me. Here. Workin' on some private tutoring. Anything. You're white, see? And you work in this prissy white school. They won't bust me with you here. I mean, not if you tell 'em."
Mary felt the urgency both in his voice and grip. His fingers dug deep into her. She felt her breath come in short gasps as she nodded and backed up, breaking his hold.
"B-but I could get in ... "
"You gotta believe me," he hissed. "I didn't do it. I ain't gonna go to jail. I'll shoot it out with the ..." He pulled a revolver from his pocket.
"No," she said with surprising confidence. "I won't let you do any shooting. Why can't you just tell them the truth?"
Henry laughed viciously. "There ain't no thing as the truth, lady. There's life and death. And somewhere between is survival. Truth is like a rat; it gets caught and kills itself because nobody believes it."
"You're very bitter, aren't you?"
"Hey, man. I ain't got time to rap about my past. You gonna help me or not?"
Mary sucked in a deep breath. She studied the boy. Maybe twelve at the most. Hostile. Hated and full of hate. His thin body was draped in oversized men's clothes. The shirt too baggy, the trousers too long. The thick Afro hair swirled out from his head like a giant black beehive. His skin was oily, nearly blue-black. The features strong and handsome, at some point between childhood and manhood. The nose flared; the brow extended broad and sharp over his penetrating eyes that were holding hers anxiously.
She felt a strange power over him in that fractional instant. Something she had never felt over anyone, except for an instant with Ben when his prick had been in her mouth. His whole future, his life was in her hands. She could make or break him with her decision--a viable life in her hands. A man not wanting to use her sexually, but morally, to balance the scale of injustice.
"Well?"
"You swear you had nothing to do with it?"
"I busted a few joints. But not this one. Not like they did. I swear. Christ! Help me?"
"Where's Bob?"
The boy shook his head. "Gone for the weekend. Frisco. Hell, I ain't got nobody but him. I mean, he's been talkin' about you for days. Hung up on you. That's why I called. I figured, I mean ..."
"All right. I'll do it. But please," she said pausing, letting his last words about Bob being hung up on her sink in, "don't be lying to me. I'll trust you. I'll pray for you. I'll lie to help you. But don't betray me."
He broke into a sweating smile. "Come on."
* * *
The policeman grunted. His fat stomach jiggled as he moved nervously back and forth in front of Mary.
"You swear you been working over math with him for three hours?"
Mary nodded, meeting the fierce, angry stare with steady composure. "Officer, I was a nun until several weeks ago. I teach at the most respected school in this town. Now, would you like to rephrase the question?"
"But it was his jacket," the cop snarled, jabbing a finger toward Henry. "The little nigger's in on it somehow." He turned toward Henry. "I can't touch you this time, asshole. But you'll get yours. I swear, you'll get yours!"
"I told you, fat belly, the jacket was ripped off. Some other studs done it. Framed me!"
"Framed you, my ass," the red-faced cop snorted, mouth twisting into a leer as he glanced at Mary's revealing top. "Nun, huh?" He looked at her short dress, the neat, trim waist, the soft, pouting mounds.
"Well, Nun," he grunted, "that's a helluva habit you've got on."
"I think you're very vulgar, Officer."
"Think through your ass, lady," he snapped, heading for the door, hiking the sandstone belt high around his waist, only to have it slip back about his bulging hips.
"I ain't through with you, Henry. I'll find out if you were lying. And if I do, I'll have me a nun and a black ass strung on the same rope."
"Beat it, Archie Funker," Henry sneered as the heavy-framed officer stomped out into the night. Henry waited until the car squealed away, then ran to Mary and threw his arms around her.
"Man, you were cool." He gave her a hug that made her stop breathing for a second, then danced into the center of the room, snapping his finger and sliding his feet in a symbolic dance.
"Whooopie . .. did you shoot the shit back in old Pig-man's face. He's gonna be wiping that off for weeks. Whoooopppieee!"
Mary touched her head. It had been a strain. Over an hour and a half. She glanced at her watch. Nearly one. Her throat was dry.
"Yes," she said, trying to enjoy the elation. "I was shocked the way he talked to you."
"They all do. Hate us," Henry said, flipping on the stereo. The hard rock filled the room. Mary listened to its crazy beat, the screaming, wailing tones that mourned out of the amplifiers.
"Say, could I have something cool to drink. A Coke, maybe?"
Henry flipped his fingers toward her. "Hell no, Mary. You need something cool. I mean, you was wild. You was so cool. Gotta try some grass."
"Grass?"
Henry's eyes lit up. A sly smile streaked over his face. "Like a cigarette," he said casually. "Here!" He reached into the thick mat of his Afro and pulled out two rolled cigarettes.
Mary laughed. "You carry cigarettes in your hair?"
Henry's young face beamed. "Perfect place. You could hide your jewels in my hair. Nobody'd ever know."
Mary joined the laughter. "I don't smoke, though."
"Hey, for me, would you try one of these? Just kind of a special thing. Huh?"
He seemed so anxious to please and be pleased, she thought. She nodded. "Well, I'll try. Then I really have to go."
"Fair enough," he said, striking a match to the one she held between her soft lips. He looked at her bared flesh, studying the smooth lines of her tits that were half-covered by the dress.
She blew the smoke out without inhaling. He leaned back against the wall, placing his joint to his lips. "You suck it down into your lungs. Like this."
He drew heavily, holding it, letting it slowly escape through his pearly white teeth.
Mary fought the strong smell and tried it again, this time inhaling deeply, coughing and trying it again. The second time she held it as long as she could.
"It really doesn't taste very good."
Henry let the cat smile sneak back. "It will. Like sex, it gets better and better."
She looked curiously at him as she took another healthy drag. The smoke was much smoother this time. She held it, exhaled. Then again.
The music poured into her. She felt her ears throbbing as the speakers shot the heavy music into her brain. It began to grow faint, then louder. She felt herself becoming lighter as the smoke filled her lungs. Her brain was relaxing, free from any troubles, enjoying the sheer leisure of the mind-blowing music.
"Here," she heard Henry's voice saying. Another freshly lighted cigarette was placed in her fingers. She smiled at him, her face as soft as cotton, her fingers sponges that floated easily on a placid lake. She took the reefer and placed it between her moist lips, sucking hard until her lungs could hold no more.
The room was moving to the music, a gentle, throbbing, rhythmic motion. She watched Henry dancing in the middle of the room, his thin, gangly black body swaying and twisting and gyrating.
"It's hot in here," she heard herself say.
"Take off your clothes."
She stood on wobbly knees, her mind aware of everything being slightly askew, but not perplexed by it. The cigarette was almost finished; she took a final drag and pressed it out on the floor.
"I'm hot, too," Henry said. He began stripping his clothes. She watched his thin black chest coming into view. Then his black hips and long, dark penis. Her skin was burning. The flesh screamed to be free.
"You help me take them off," she said, her eyes fixing on the half-hard prick. She felt herself staring at it. Her eyes were long fingers, reaching out and touching the boy's hardness. She could feel the skin's velvety texture without actually touching it, and taste its salty flavor without sucking it.
Henry's nakedness didn't bother her. She felt comfortable with it, as she had with no other man or boy. She stood, allowing his hands to slide over her jugs, sensing a strange eagerness in his fingers as they fumbled with the zipper, tugging at it until it slid down the track.
His long, black fingers peeled the dress off her shoulders. She saw his mouth hinging open as her tits came into view.
She reached for his hand, grasping it by the wrist and guiding it toward the warm mountains of her tit flesh. Saying nothing, she ran the five black sticks over each mound, moving the fingers to the nipples and working them around the stiffening tips.
Inside, her body was yawning itself to awareness. The strange warmth seeped from her boobs to her loins where she next guided Henry's hands.
His face glinted with sweat as she ran his fingers down through the flaxen patch of pubic hairs to the warm, wet wildness of her cunt.
"Do you like that, Henry?"
He said nothing. His fingers were working at her slit, sawing back and forth over the damp mouth to her pussy.
"You got everything," he said in a husky voice, his face looking up at her, his tongue licking out at his lips. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed him down to his knees.
"Kiss it, Henry," she said deliriously. "Kiss it."
Her nails dug into his shoulders as the first contact of his tongue met her stripped mind. She let out a low whimper, fighting a rising doubt that nagged in the back of her brain. It settled down sleepily as his boyish tongue began to work feverishly into her cunt.
"My ass," she moaned, reaching down and guiding his hands up to the globes of her butt. "Finger my ass, too."
She spread her legs farther, letting the buttock muscles relax as she guided his finger to the pulsing pit of her asshole. She gasped as he pressed the digit in, moving it slowly at first, then faster to keep the same rhythmic tempo with his tongue.
"Deeper . . . harder . . . deeper ..."
She shook her head, the strawberry strands of hair tossing about. Arching her back, she let her hands glide up over her smooth stomach to the undersides of her tits. She massaged the firm mounds, milking the nipples into firm, marble-hard coral balls.
Between her legs she could hear the black boy's slurping lips sucking at her twat. She snapped the lips together, trapping his tongue, working her hips so that the incursion of his finger into her asshole would have the maximum effect.
Deep down in her throat she felt a barren dryness. She swallowed hard as her body tensed. Her lips began to tremble. Her buttcheeks clenched tightly, grinding back against his probing finger.
"Now," she hissed. "NOW!" She squeezed with all her might again and again. Nothing happened. Her aching guts only knotted tighter and tighter, unable to spill out the fruits locked within.
"Come! COME!"
She clenched her teeth, spitting out the command to which there was no physical response. Then the dryness in her throat renewed itself. She flicked her tongue out, nodding her head forward and staring at the boy's high, bushy head.
"Let me suck you, Henry," she said in a detached voice. The head moved back from between her legs, the lips covered with the sweet, slick juices of her pussy.
He stood, brushing his thick lips with the back of his hand. She ran her fingers over his chest, feeling his ribs and thin arms, snaking down over his firm stomach to the fresh, burgeoning crop of hair starting to form.
Dropping to her knees slowly, she curled her fingers around the base of his black staff, dragging the tips over the smooth, velvety length of his pecker.
The foreskin was peeled back at the tip, revealing the spongy head of the boy's cock. She formed an "O" with her hand and pulled the skin all the way back, exposing his bullet-shaped cockhead.
"I like you, Henry," she said, brushing the head with her lips. "I like you as much as Bruno. You're gentle. You're beautiful You're ..."
She smiled, the music driving into her ears like electronic spikes. He held her head in his hands, urging her against his cock.
"Eat me," he hissed. "Eat my black cock!"
Her hands were laced with sweat as she cupped the four-inch pecker and flicked her tongue out against the tip. Henry groaned, inching back, then forward as she covered the head with her lips, slowly settling down over the shaft. Her tongue caught it on the underside, working up and down as she began to suck the sweetness from the boy's stem.
She felt his nails digging into her shoulders. A flash of Harry's cock flittered through her mind, then Ben's. She felt their boyish nearness against her face, the little stems poking at her cheeks.
Her hands caught Henry's balls, cupping and rolling the orbs as she drew the head deeper and deeper into her throat. She swallowed, the head bobbing against the upper part of her mouth. Henry jerked, driving her back. He fell on top of her, his hips hunching, the tip of his rod battering the back of her throat.
She clutched him at the base of the cock, holding him from shoving the cock down into her stomach. Something was different. She sensed the sheer enjoyment, the hungry animal stench of sex filtering out of every pore, filling every dark gap in her mind.
"Ummmmmm," she hummed the sound, the vibrations running up the length of his pole. He made a grunting sound and she repeated the noise, once more feeling her voice traveling through his black, pumping shaft.
"Gawd, damn!"
His hands slid down her back, fingers tracking through the crevice of her ass, searching for the little brown dot of her asshole. She raised up on her haunches, ass split, colon spread to accept the serpentine finger. She swallowed hard, eyes rolling glasslike in their sockets as his finger pushed past the battered ring of flesh deep into her butt. She jacked her hand rapidly along the shaft, sucking deep and feeling her throat grabbing at his prick.
The parched path of her throat began to salivate. She felt her mouth watering as a tiny drop of his seminal fluid leaked out the tip and wet her tonsils. She felt the steam rising off her boiling flesh. Her hands cupped his balls like two precious baubles. She rolled them together, listening to the soft scrape of his young skin scratching together.
Her hips jerked up and down, meeting the driving thrust of his fingers that were probing her brownie. They stretched the skin, making her heart beat thunderously and the air wheeze as she sucked it through the collapsing freeways of her nostrils.
"I'm gonna come! I'm gonna come!"
His exclamation was met with a deep swallowing, gulping action by Mary. For a fraction of a second he thought the whole of his prick would be pulled into her stomach. His body was helplessly stuck to her, partly by the erotic madness and partly by a deadly fear that if he pulled away, his pecker would remain stuck in the vacuum of her mouth.
"Can't hold it," he grunted, his thin black hips slamming against her face. He dug his middle finger deeply into her ass, twisting and twitching it as her tits danced over his thighs. The room sprang in on them. Walls fell in slow motion toward their compressed bodies. A light fixture seemed to sink down from the ceiling, its bright light blinding their minds.
Mary's eyes were wide. She felt the thin vein on the underside of his prick grow thick and wormlike. His muscles spasmed before her eyes as his stomach convulsed and the hot stream of semen rushed headlong through his meaty tube.
Bracing herself for the blast, she swallowed hard and milked his pole with the strong, muscular weight of her lips. The munching action brought a desperate cry from him. She heard the moan above her own guttural gasp as his finger probed up against her bladder, triggering her own wild, orgasmic explosion. Hot juices trickled down her thighs, spraying from the squeezed folds of her hot cunt. She gulped at the spraying semen, coughing and spluttering as it streamed down her aching throat.
Mary lay with her tongue lapping at the boy's prick. She leaned over, dragging the hard tips of her tits over the head, watching it slowly stiffening back to life.
Henry lay on the floor, arms outstretched, his thin young frame moving erratically as her manipulations began to arouse his lust.
"You're a horny bitch," he sighed, dragging on another joint and handing it to her. She sucked some of the hot smoke into her lungs, held it and blew it out over the head of his half-hard cock.
"I like you," she said softly, brushing her thick, sensuous lips against his pecker's underside. Henry twitched, his back arching up to savor the soft contact of her body. He reached between her legs, his fingers stroking the silken triangle of her pussy.
"Why you fuckin' with me?" he asked, really not caring for an answer, only curious.
"You trusted me," she moaned, crawling on top of him, dragging her puffy snatch up his trembling thigh. "You needed help and you trusted me. For that I love you. And you're gentle. You're young and gentle. Not like the others. No," she said, the grass making her mind float amicably through the past tortured days, "you're basic and human. You're frail and bitter and black and beautiful."
Henry reached down and fondled her tit. "You sound like some fuckin' social head."
Mary's blue eyes lit mischievously. "Does this feel social?" she asked, nipping at the head of his cock with her teeth.
Henry laughed. "Sheeit, what do I care why you want to fuck me? You just do it, lady. You just do it."
For the first time Mary felt herself giving a hundred, unrestricted, percent of herself. She squatted over his cock, guiding it up to the pink, pulsing pit of her snatch. Her eyes were like telescopes, studying the spongy black head that rose like the staff of life to impale her. Heart thudding, she worked the foreskin back, watching the gleaming ebony knob growing closer to her wet, winking hole. The lips worked together as she touched the slick black bullet to her snatch. She sighed, slowly settling herself onto Henry's cock, relishing the hot warmth that spread through her as his black, boyish dong drove through the tight glove of her pussy.
His hands reached for her boobs, fingers sinking into the warm flesh. She felt the balls of her nipples skidding against the pink roughness of his palms, and leaned down to press her lips against the teak-colored cushion of his mouth. His tongue licked out, driving through the white picket gate of her teeth, meeting her swishing tongue and parlaying like two snakes fighting for territory.
"You gotta stay here all weekend," he gasped as she grabbed his small round ass and yanked his pelvis against hers. "Man, I can't let you go."
"You mean you love me?"
Henry looked up at her glazed, fogged eyes. Her face was soft and gentle, head thrown back so that her short crop of hair fell back from her forehead. The round, firm tits rode high, nipples jiggling as she worked her hips around his swollen dick. Her skin was lily white, the lips a fresh, strawberry pink. He reached for her arms, pulling those dangling firm tits against his sweating chest, crushing his mouth to hers and driving his tongue deep into the recess of her hot throat.
"I mean I dig the shit outta you."
"You have to love me," she moaned, dragging her nails down his back, rolling him over so that he was on top.
"All right. All right. I love you," he whispered, his tongue working into the small, conical indention of her ear. He felt her fingers raking his back. Her legs scissored up along his thin waist, slipping and snapping so that every muscle in her cunt yanked and pulled harmoniously with the plunging motions of his cock.
"Yeah," he grunted into her ear, "yeah, do I love your white fuckin' ass."
CHAPTER TEN
She rose early Monday, showered and dressed, fed Bruno and drove to school with the top down. The cool air was a biting refreshment to her head.
She made her way up the stairs, fighting the nagging headache that she had awakened with from the wine that she and Henry had downed. Combined with the cigarettes, she wasn't sure which made her feel badly. But it didn't matter. It had been the most tremendous feeling, doing things with the boy that she had had done to her by the greedy men. It was, she thought, even better than Bruno. Better than feeling God near her.
She was more than an hour early, wanting to finish the grading that she had not done over the tumultuous weekend. And she wanted to think, to try and place things in some semblance of order.
It bothered her that she didn't feel guilty about doing it with Henry. It bothered her that she missed his presence even now, and had only left when he urged her to because he was afraid of what Bobby would do to him if they were caught.
The thoughts tumbled through her mind as she worked through the papers. She was totally absorbed when she felt the small hand on her neck and turned, startled, to stare into Ben's face.
"Hello, Sister Liz."
He wore a faint smile, his high, swarthy cheeks gleaming in the fluorescent lights.
"What do you want?" she snapped. Ben reached to stroke her cheek. She slapped his hand away.
"Just wanted to give you something, Teach." He held something behind his back. "Uncle Dave told me about you. Said everything was okay now. Didn't you listen to him?"
"Go away," Mary said, returning to her work. She felt him moving behind her. His hand sneaked out and grabbed her tit, the small fingers squeezing firmly around the nipple.
She gasped. The hot contact made her voice freeze. She wanted to turn on him, to beat him with her fists, to banish him and the other boys from her thoughts. But her mind raced back to the first day-she could see both Ben and Harry stripped, moving toward her, touching her and igniting the strange fires that now burned feverishly in her every thought.
"Don't touch me," she warned, her voice wavering, her body unable to fend him off. Suddenly the blood coursed through her. She was afire, the pores spreading open like tiny volcanoes letting off steam. Sweat smeared her brow.
"You want me, too, don't you? I mean, you like your little students to touch you, don't you?"
She tried to move, to brush him away. Her hands were stuck on the desk, her face locked into a tortured mask.
"Don't," she whined as his other hand slipped to her other tit. He massaged them slowly, working his fingers around the warm undersides, up to the perky red tips.
"You're hot, Sister Liz. You want to suck me, don't you?"
Mary shook her head. She felt a great lump in her throat and a sudden dryness as she tried to swallow.
"I want to be left alone," she managed. "Please, Ben. Leave me alone?"
"Huh-uh." His fingers slid down to the tight muscles of her stomach, fingers spread out like a fan as they inched toward the hot patch of her pussy.
"You want me to touch you there, don't you? Tell me you want me touch you."
It was all cascading back into her mind. The little series of events. First Ben and Harry. Bob. The boys. Smith. Mother Superior. Hilda. Henry. They filled her mind. Bodies thrashing, mouths sucking. Little penises in her mouth. Big cocks in her ass. Semen spitting at her from all sides. The tomahawk handle. Bruno's lapping tongue. Maureen's thirsty lips.
"You want me to touch you, don't you?" He repeated the words, his fingers teasing down the insides of her thigh, skidding close to the ache in her groin.
"Please," she sighed, her body melting back against the chair, her thighs starting to slide apart. "I don't want to . . . God, I don't want you to do this to me ... "
"Sex, Sister Liz," his high-pitched voice sang into her ear. "You love it. You want to feel my cock, don't you? You want to touch it. To hold it in your lips."
Mary's lips were numb. She stuttered, "W-why? W-why n-now?"
Ben's fingers lightly brushed over her snatch. She gasped, the hot gush of passion rushing through her body.
"I thought about upstaging old Smith. Hate the old fucker. Always showing off. Always bragging about taking care of me. Hell, I can take care of myself. But he came over and told me how he did it to you. Told me I was a little man, couldn't handle a woman like you. Told me to lay off. I don't like that. I figure you're a hot bitch. I figure you like my cock. I'm not so little, am I?"
He was touching her cunt now, his fingers massaging the split, working the dress up so that his fingers rubbed her swollen twat through her panties. She grabbed the sides of the chair, her body arching itself, the mesmeric effect of his fingers capturing her and turning her into a helpless lump of seething flesh.
"Please? I don't want to let you. Ben? For God's sake, let me alone!"
"You lie, bitch," he said, moving around behind her. She heard the rustling of paper, then felt him working her panties off. She pressed her knees together, helping him as he struggled to work them off.
"God, no," she moaned, but now her body was electrified. She was sitting on a bed of coals that burned deeply into her soul, releasing all the sexual demons that haunted her.
"Yes," Ben hissed, his fingers parting the soft folds of her cunt, peeling them back to expose the nubbin of her clit. She felt his fingers working her clit in circles. Her eyes closed, neck leaning back against the chair, she lifted her hips up to grind them against his fingers.
"Yes, Sister Liz. I'm going to make a real believer out of you."
"Fuck me," Mary begged, her breasts two balls of fire trapped in her bra. "Fuck me!"
She heard the paper rustling again, then felt the hard tip of something huge pressing against her cunt. She opened her eyes and stared down at a large, yellow banana. Its curved shape and squared sides moved into her as Ben worked the blackened tip around the gaping orifice.
"God, no!" she whined, but even as she reached for the fruit, a new set of hands grabbed her arms.
"Hold her, Harry," Ben said. She glanced around into Harry's round, happy face.
"That's part of my lunch, Teach," Harry snorted. "Big sacrifice, huh? Told you your ass would be in a sling, didn't I?"
The banana hurt at first. Ben worked it slowly, sensing the portal's resistance, then working it deeper and deeper. With each thrust Mary grimaced, her arms pinned back behind the chair by Harry, her hot knockers arching out like two ripe pears.
"Like your finger up my ass, only better, huh, Sister Liz?" Ben worked the banana faster. Mary's hips slid around the slick surface of the chair, trying to meet the jabs. The pain ebbed, replaced with a growing thirst to have the fruit jammed all the way into her. She began to moan, her tongue working out into the empty air.
"Gawd . . . harder . . . deeper . . . faster . . . ram it in me . . . deeper ..."
Harry released her arms. His chubby hands snagged her pouting jugs, the greedy fingers digging through her dress into the burning flesh of her tits.
Ben jerked the banana out of her twat. Mary fell off the chair, onto the floor, her hips thrashing and bumping against the floor.
"Don't stop! Don't stop!" she cried, her heart bursting, tears in her eyes. She beat the floor with her fists.
"Jack her ass up," Ben ordered. Harry grabbed her and worked her over to the chair, slinging her so that her butt was raised high over one edge.
"Tit for tat," Ben said as he pushed the banana up her asshole.
At first she howled. The wet, cunt-slickened fruit ripped through her colon, sending bursting explosions of pain rocketing to her brain. The pain melted, replaced with a hot, filling sensation that buried her mind in delirious warmth.
"Aaaahhrmrrruuuugggghhhhh ..."
"She likes it! She likes it!"
"Cock!" she blurted, her mind crammed with sexual madness. "Let me taste cock!"
Harry was closest. She reached for him, dragging him to her, her fingers digging at his belt, ripping it off and exposing his chunky stomach. He fought at first, then she dug her nails into his round, fleshy buttocks and he cried as she pulled him toward her mouth.
The hot, salty surface of his pecker slipped between her wet lips. She bore down with her teeth, holding him while her tongue whipped frantically at the tiny head.
"God, she's eating me! I can't get away, Ben. She'll bite it off!"
"Bitch!" Ben rammed the banana hard into her ass. She let out a scream and munched hard on Harry's cock. The youth screamed, his fists beating at her head. She felt the blows ringing off her temples and ears, but didn't let loose. Her lips crunched again and again down onto Harry's pecker, each time being simultaneously battered by the banana shoved up her ass.
"Hold it! Hold it!" Harry cried helplessly, his heavy body trying to pull away from the bizarre mastications. But Mary didn't stop. She was gnawing on the small pole, swallowing and keeping it in place with the firm pressure of her teeth.
"Make her stop, Ben! God, make her stop!"
Ben yanked the banana out. Mary held her grip on Harry. She drove her fingers into his asshole, hearing the boy's muffled screams. Then something heavy glanced off her head. She recalled Harry's belly button turning like a pinwheel, the fleshy indentation growing into a large, black vortex before she slumped into unconsciousness.
* * *
She awoke groggily in Smith's office. Maureen was sitting next to her, pressing a cold compress against the gash.
"You okay?"
Mary tried to sit up; the pain drove her back down.
"Wh-what happened?"
She heard Smith's angry voice. "You dirty slut. How could you? You almost emasculated a lawyer's son."
Maureen held her close. Mary looked up and felt Maureen's firm breasts shoved against her face. The braless mounds spiked against her nose. A soothing warmth swept through Mary, then vanished as Smith's voice shot at her again.
"You're fired. You hear me! How the hell am I going to explain this? Jesus Christ!"
Mary sat up weakly. Maureen scooted close, holding the cold compress and hugging her so that her breasts were touching Mary's. Mary felt the warmth of the two nipples pressing firmly and looked into Maureen's smoky eyes. The receptionist licked her lips.
"But I was attacked . . . They had a banana. I didn't..."
Smith slammed his fist on his desk, his face wrenched into an angry mask.
"I don't care if they threatened to cut your heart out. It doesn't matter what they did. It matters what you did. You scared the shit out of Harry. He's swearing to tell his father. Do you know what that would mean? Have you any idea?"
"I don't care who he tells," she blurted, breaking into tears. Maureen put her arms around her, her fingers sneaking under Mary's arm and pressing against the sides of her tits.
"I don't suppose you do," Smith said reluctantly. "You'd probably stick to your story about the boys attacking you, wouldn't you?"
"Of course," Mary said, sobbing, not caring about Mo's fingers which had worked toward her nipple. At least someone was caring. Even if it was a selfish act.
"I'm going to try and heal things with Harry. But I warn you, Mary Martin, if this gets out, if it busts this place apart, I'll . . . I'll," his voice narrowed to a low whisper, "I'll kill you!"
Mary let the threat sink in. She saw the livid hatred in his eyes and cringed against Mo's arms.
"Now, get out and don't come back. And you keep your mouth shut about what you've heard, Maureen. The same goes for you."
Maureen guided Mary out of the building into the brisk morning. She poured her into her car.
"Look, kid. You're shook up. Let me take you to my place. I can't let you alone like this."
Mary, tears spilling from her eyes, nodded and leaned her head against the passenger window as Maureen negotiated the car toward her apartment.
Upstairs she dressed the wound and fixed some hot coffee. Mary's hands shook. She pressed the steaming cup to her lips, and for a moment thought she could taste the lingering saltiness of Harry's cock.
"It was really bad," Maureen said, sitting on the couch beside Mary. "His pecker was all chewed up. You scared the hell out of that little wise-ass shit."
Mary coughed and placed the mug on the table. "Will he tell? Do you think he will really tell his parents?"
"Who knows? I mean, Smith's got good control over the little fuckers. But that kid thought he'd lost his whiz. Never seen a kid so shook up."
"What will happen to me?"
Mo shook her head. "Hey, kid. Don't worry. I really think Smith will fix it. I mean, the nurse said there wasn't any real damage. Just scraped up. The kid will cool off. They're just a bunch of spiteful little shits. That's what worries old Smith. But he'll get Ben to talk him out of it. I don't think you'll go to jail over it."
"Jail?"
"Hey," Mo said, reaching up and stroking her face. "Don't get uptight. I'll let you know what's happening. Say, you just relax."
Mo leaned down and hugged her, her hot breasts rubbing against Mary's. Mary felt weak, helpless, and threw her arms around Mo.
"I'm so frightened," she said.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," Mo muttered, her hand stroking down Mary's thigh, the fingers curling to the inside flesh.
"Please don't," Mary pleaded. "Just hold me!"
Mo sat up, her face flushed. "I can't, damn it. I can't. I mean, I'm hooked. Like you are on those fuckin' kids. Don't you understand? I came out of the nunnery looking for myself. I just got off on the wrong track. I mean, there was this woman teacher at the school, and the first day she took me home and--hell, I just couldn't get it on with anyone with a cock. I don't know, Mary. I don't know if I can just hold you."
Mary looked at the small, buxom girl. She stood with her back to her, her shapely buttocks swelling out, her shapely legs flowing out from beneath the short skirt.
Mo turned toward her, eyes red and wet, hands shaking. "Would you do me one favor before you leave, Mary? Please, one favor?"
Mary nodded. "What can I do?"
Mo disappeared into the bedroom, returning with a black bundle. "Put these on and make love to me. Just once. Before you leave. As a ... as a favor!"
Mary picked up the bundle and stared for a long moment at the nun's habit. She glanced into Mo's face. It was anxious, the fine lines of her face set hard in anticipation.
"All right," she said, feeling sorry for the other woman.
She turned her back and stripped, her head still aching, but the pills given her by the nurse before leaving were soothing the throbbing. She flinched putting the cowl on, then turned toward Maureen who stood shaking in the middle of the room, her eyes roving over Mary's black-clothed figure.
"May I call you Sister Liz?"
"Yes," Mary said, a strange sensation coming over her as she moved, the habit swishing gently behind her. She wore nothing beneath, only her raw, naked flesh. Already she could feel her body trembling, the nerves balling and tensing as she approached Maureen.
"I'll call you Mother Superior."
Maureen crumpled to her knees, throwing her arms around Mary's waist and burying her face into her crotch.
"Oh, God, Mother Superior. That's so good. You feel so warm and loving. I need love. God, I need love. The true fruit of love. The fruit of the flesh, love. The love you taught me to like. Before I left."
Mary listened, the words coming from some distant niche in Maureen's past. She didn't question why or who.
"Come lie with me," Mary said, guiding Maureen toward the couch. "Come lie with me and taste the fruit of love-the fruit of the flesh. Come be near me and savor the sweetness of my love."
She steered Maureen to the bedroom.
"Lie down and let me strip away the cloth of man," she said, caught up in the strange role-playing. Her hands worked the top of Maureen's dress open. She peeled it back, exposing the two huge, pendulous mounds. Leaning down, she kissed one bright red nipple, massaging it between her teeth until it grew hard and tumescent, like a small boy's penis.
"Is that good, Sister Maureen? Do you feel the fruit yet?"
Maureen shook her head. Her eyes rolled like glass balls in their sockets. Mary moved her hands over the ripe mounds, the tips of her fingers grazing the distended nipples. Maureen twisted, her body shuddering.
"No, Mother Superior," she moaned, "please don't touch me ... . please don't touch me like that ..."
The face was foreign to Mary. As though it had been shoved back into an innocent time, reliving that first moment of sexual exploration, struggling with the deep-rooted guilt that was surfacing now beneath her own hands.
A time and place for all sins to be given and taken, for them to be forsaken or held against one. But the time wasn't now. The time now was earth, the fresh flesh of youth before her, a whole life of temporal pleasures.
She slipped her hand under Maureen's dress, sliding her fingers up to the girl's damp, pantied crotch.
"There, my little nun. There. There. Smother your thoughts in the warmth of my fingers," Mary said as she stroked Maureen's throbbing clit with her finger.
She watched Maureen's face knotting. The petite woman's hands grasped handfuls of sheet, squeezing them into her white-knuckled fists.
"God, please forgive me," Maureen muttered as her knees cocked up and her hips began to grind against Mary's manipulating fingers.
Mary's tits grew hot. She fumbled with the panties, hooking her fingers into the elastic and pulling them off the slender legs. She ran her sweating palms up the insides of Maureen's thighs, carefully grazing the pulsing point of her pussy to keep her high and arched toward the great rainbow of sexual pleasure.
Mouth dry, Mary leaned down and extended her snakelike tongue. She cooed, speaking softly to Maureen about God as her tongue licked along the pink tapioca sides of the other woman's snatch.
Her tongue danced over the soft, squishy head of the clit, tasting its vinegar flavor and working it between the munchy sponges of her lips.
Her body aching to be touched, Mary swung around on the bed so that her cunt was poised over Maureen's face. She slowly lowered herself and said, "Kiss Mother Superior. Taste her fruits. Share with me the secrets of sex, my little one."
She felt Maureen's hands sliding under the habit, grazing up the wide expanse of her buttocks. The arms locked around her waist, pulling her down.
Her mouth worked feverishly over Maureen's cunt. She drove the tip along the soft walls, curling the tip and dragging it slowly out until she thought Maureen would faint.
Working her finger down the crack of Mo's butt, she found the weak brown ring and pressed, letting her finger slide effortlessly into Mo's asshole.
Mo repeated the process, at first painful, then becoming smoother and more accommodating. Their tits brushed, a storming electrical current, passing from one body to the other. Mary stiffened. She sucked hard on Mo's cunt, her mouth covering the hole and forming a strong vacuum.
"Sssssspppppllllaaatttt!!!"
Simultaneously, they shot their juices. Mary's head reeled. She clutched Mo tighter and tighter, squeezing and shuddering as the bolts of lightning ripped through the clouds of her passion, lighting the darkened passageway of a far-off nunnery, exposing both her present and future in a blinding flash.
Drained, she lay panting, knowing that she had enjoyed the experience, but also knowing that it wasn't something she could live without. She rolled away from Maureen. Maureen started to speak, but checked herself as Mary stood, pausing to lean down and kiss her softly on the lips.
She braced her shoulders and walked out of the room, forgetting about the habit. She was in her car, driving down the freeway when she realized she still had the nun's uniform on. It wouldn't matter, she thought, not for a few more miles.
Anxious to get home and see Bruno, she hurried up the steps to her apartment, past the curious eyes of some of her neighbors. Inside she called for Bruno.
She called again and again, then moved from room to room searching for him. The paper on the back of the front door caught her eye. She walked up to it and read:
-- You 're lucky we don't send you to jail, you fucking whore. You better never come near either of us again. And as far as Bruno goes, he's gone. I took him back and gave him away. Bad Luck, slut. --
Mary stared at the note again. She looked at the scrawled signature of Ben's, then about the empty apartment. She could still smell Bruno. His odor lingered, but she knew he was gone.
An emptiness swept over her. She grabbed her purse and ran for the door. She had to find Henry. Henry loved her. Somebody had to love her. God, she needed somebody.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bob's house was empty. She felt the dark faces riveting on her as she walked back toward the car, the habit flowing behind her.
An older woman nodded and smiled. Two youths squinted, snickered and said something she didn't hear. She began to cruise the streets, her eyes filled with tears, her head ringing with confusion.
It wasn't her fault. No, she thought. They started it all. They brought her to her knees. They turned against her. Only Henry asked for her help. Only Henry had given himself to her freely, and she to him. Now she must find him. He was the link. The final bond that would give her the strength she needed now.
She rounded a corner and saw a young boy walking up the street. At first she thought it was Henry, but as she cruised alongside him, she saw her was much younger, perhaps ten or eleven.
She slowed to a stop and rolled down her window. "Excuse me, could you please tell me where I could find Henry Walton?"
The boy hesitated, then sauntered over to the car, his long face defensive, the thick lips expressionless.
"Never heard of him. Hey, how about a ride?"
Mary nodded and the boy jumped in. She cruised another block. "Where do you want out?"
The boy lit a cigarette and slumped back. "I'll just ride 'cause I'll get picked up for walkin'. I cut school."
Mary looked at him again. There was a semblance of Henry. The oily skin. The flattened nose. The deep, chocolate eyes. She felt her heart beating faster. She looked down at his slender legs. He was scratching himself between the legs, rubbing his palm over a small, round protrusion in his pants.
"Would you like to stop and get some pop? Maybe," she said, her throat dry, "we could drive over to a park and talk."
The boy whipped around suddenly, his eyes tense and hostile. She almost slammed the brakes on, frightened that the boy might bolt out of the car.
"Yeah," he said, his eyes looking at the faint outline of her figure. "I guess it's all right with a nun."
She stopped at a store, handed him some money and waited until he climbed in with the pop. She drove under his direction to a deserted section of the ghetto, near an old bridge footing that was surrounded with heavy concrete debris.
"Pull in anywhere over there," the boy said. She guided the car into a covey of tangled steel and lumps of concrete. Her hands were sweating. The neck of the habit was choking her as she killed the engine and sat for a moment staring at the bleak mass of steel and rock.
"My name's ..." She paused. "My name is Sister Liz."
The boy didn't pay any attention. He flipped the top off the pop and drained it. He put his feet up on the dash and lit another cigarette.
Mary fumbled for the seat latch and let the seat slip back. The boy looked over at her, his brows crunched together sullenly. Again his eyes measured her body. She pulled her legs from under the wheel, bending them so the habit was pulled up, revealing some of her flesh.
"I'm very lonely today," she heard herself saying.
The boy popped another can open and nursed it slowly. She shifted her legs again, this time working the hem of the dress up so that her thighs were exposed.
"I'm looking for Henry because..." She paused, the words struggling in her throat. "Because his . . . his hands are . . . so soft!"
The boy sat up now. He looked at her with a different intensity, his eyes drawn to the white, creamy flesh of her thigh. "Do you want to touch me?" she asked, her voice breaking, the dryness like sand on her tongue.
"I need someone to touch me," she said, this time more confidently. "I can't find Henry. I looked. You do believe that I looked for him, don't you?"
The boy's neck seemed to stretch. She glanced at his crotch, noticing the lump growing stiffer in his jeans. She licked her lips.
"May I see your hand?"
The boy didn't move. She reached gingerly for his hand, touching the smooth black flesh of his wrist. She pulled the hand from the seat and held it, feeling the softness around the palm, studying the pink flat and the blending colors where the fingers grew black.
"Your hand is very soft," she said, placing it on her thigh. She gasped. Her heart fluttered wildly.
She shut her eyes, seeing Henry's face looming in her mind's eye as she worked the boy's finger in a small, circular path on her thigh skin.
She could hear the boy's quickened breath. Her tongue danced out and dusted her dry lips.
"I-I have an ache," she said, scooting toward the boy. "Here," she added, lifting his hand and pressing it against her hot tit. Again she gasped, the electrifying sensation ravaging through her.
The boy moved. His fingers formed hooks that dug into her breast flesh. She saw the expressionless face tense, and tiny beads of sweat pop out on his forehead.
"I'm glad you like me," she sighed, moving his hands over her boobs, working his fingers against her turgid nipples. "Because I like you. I liked you when I saw you walking down the street. I-knew you would like me, too."
She took his hands and pressed them against her hot thigh, guiding them up to her naked crotch. She watched the surprised look on his face when his fingers met the silken pubic patch.
"I knew two little boys like you once," she said, working his fingers around her palpitating pussy. "They were white and mean. They were nasty little boys who wanted to hurt me. I loved them, though. I mean, in a way different from you. I loved them, but they wouldn't let me love them. I wanted to show them something. They never let me. They wanted to hurt me. They taught me about cruelty. That's why they're different from you and Henry. Ah! Ah! That's good. That's good."
The boy was diddling her with both hands. She let out a whimper when he stabbed two fingers into her slot, then she settled back against the door, her legs spread, the habit pulled up around her waist, exposing the pink, watermelon slice of her cunt.
"You want to kiss it?" she asked, putting her hands on the back of his thick Afro. "Please, kiss it!" She nudged his head down, scooting so that she could thrust her hips up against his mouth.
He pulled away.
"No!"
She sat up, her face long and sour. Then she broke into a smile.
"I understand. I understand. It's hard. I know. To really give like that. But don't be afraid of me. I'm Sister Liz. I won't hurt you."
As she spoke, she reached for his thigh. Her slender, sculptured finger ran teasingly along the inner part of his jeans. He sat, face drawn, eyes growing glassy as her fingers brushed over the thickening lump in his pants.
"There, there," she said, patting the hardening length of his prepubescent cock. "Nothing to be afraid of."
She was rubbing it firmly with the base of her palm. She wiggled close to him, rubbing his shoulder with her inflamed tit as both her hands worked at the fork of his thigh.
"You're so big for a young boy. God, I can feel how long and hard your cock is." She lifted her shaking fingers toward the zipper, working it down until she could see the hint of pubic hair starting to grow.
"And hair, too," she praised, her long, cool fingers wedging into the narrow opening of his pants. The boy let out a hissing gush of air as her fingers touched his naked tool. She closed around the staff, feeling the thin foreskin peeling back as the rod grew ironlike in her hands.
"Take your belt off," she urged. He fidgeted with the belt until it was loose, then undid the snap, letting the top of his trousers fall away from his slim hips.
"Ah," she exclaimed, her tongue working back and forth over her lips, "that's fantastic. You're so big!"
She took the three-inch penis between her fingers and peeled the foreskin back. It wasn't as large as Henry's, but it was perfectly shaped and youthful. She leaned down, her face flushed, her heart thumping noisily in her chest, and kissed the pearly drop of semen that sat like a tiny tear atop the black shaft.
"Gawd!" The boy began to hump. His hands grabbed her head and drove her mouth over the spurting pole. She gobbled at it, the flat of her tongue swiping the underside. Her lips munched hard, sucking as the premature juices splattered off the roof of her mouth.
"Ump-umph-umph-umph!!!"
Mary sucked and sucked, but the pole grew soft in her lips, shriveling back into tiny foreskin like a frightened snail. The boy pushed at her head.
"I gotta go," he said quickly, grabbing the door and opening it. He nearly fell out. She watched the black, flashing action of his buttcheeks as he ran, trying to pull his trousers up at the same time.
* * *
The boy skipped to a halt as the car braked beside him. He gazed through the open window at the young, attractive nun sitting inside.
"Would you like a ride, young man?"
He looked at her curiously. The black habit was up around her thighs. The top of the dress was opened so that part of one of her tits could be seen.
"You for real?" he asked, cocking his foot on the fender.
"I am," she said. "I'm looking for Henry. Henry Walton. Have you seen him?"
The boy shrugged. "Don't know who he is. Don't care, neither."
"Want the ride?" Mary's face was drawn. Her body ached. She couldn't wait for Henry. Not now. Not when it ached this bad.
"Sure!"
He was maybe thirteen. Broad-shouldered, slim-hipped. His hair was short, nose not quite as broad, arms muscular. He swung in confidently, turning with his back to the door and looking at her exposed flesh.
"You a hooker?"
She shook her head. "I'm just looking for Henry," she lied, speeding the car toward the bridge ruins. "Just looking for Henry."
"Hey, where we going?"
"Just for a ride," she said urgently. "God, you don't mind going for a ride, do you?"
He sat back. "I can take care of myself," he said, watching the traffic disappear and the strangely dressed white woman's boobs jiggle as she swerved the car onto the bumpy, little-used road.
She pulled into the same spot and switched off the engine. This time she flicked on the radio and sat back, trying to catch her breath, trying to hold herself back. The boy looked strong and masculine. His face was rife with confidence as he pulled his knees to his chest and stared at her.
"Well?" he said.
She swallowed hard. Her hands were trembling.
The aching in her crotch grew more and more intense. Drops of sweat skidded down the slopes of her seething tits.
"If I suck it, will you fuck me?" she blurted.
The boy's face broke into a smile. "You mean, if you suck it, will I be able to fuck you?"
"Yes-yes-yes!"
"Why don't I fuck you and then you suck it?"
"No!" She shook her head, wringing her hands, licking her lips. "Please, don't ask me to explain."
The boy smirked again. "I mean, what's to explain? Some white nun running around sucking and fucking. So who's to question that?"
"Don't make jokes." She blurted the words, then saw the hesitant look on his face and apologized. "I'm . . . I'm sorry. I just ... I just need--"
"Hey, sister," the boy said, reaching out and stroking her bare thigh. "Don't get uptight. I mean, you want a little black cock--hell, you got it. You want to nibble on ole Zimba, that's groovy."
Mary had her eyes closed, enslaved by the heavy fingers working up her thigh. Then it sparked. The name.
She sat up, her eyes large and frightened. "Zimba?"
He grinned, the white borders of his teeth framing the pink expanse of his mouth. "You know me? Sure you do. Bet you're Henry's little nun. Didn't figure you to be so sexy."
He reached for her, pulling her close, mashing his mouth against hers. She fought back, breaking the kiss. Her stomach was churning. Henry's enemy! Henry's foe!
"What's the matter, sister honky? You were hot a couple of seconds ago. Turn off so easy?"
"I have to go," she said suddenly, reaching for the key. His hand darted out and snatched the keys from the ignition.
"Huh-uh. Like you said, a little suck, a little fuck. Real white class. Ole Henry must have somethin', huh?"
"Don't!" Mary tried to wriggle away from his grasp. He drove her down into the seat, wedging his firm body atop hers.
"You love Henry? You love Bobby W.? Maybe you just love black cock? Huh? You love black stud cock?"
Mary felt the pit in her gut widen. She had to find Henry. She couldn't let his worst enemy touch her. No, she couldn't. She loved Henry. She needed him. Anything else was only an excuse. A temporary satisfaction.
"Okay, baby. Grab this!"
He pulled his prick from his pants and grabbed her hand, shoving it down until the back of her closed fist rubbed against the shaft.
"No!" she grunted, fighting off his lips that brushed heavily against hers. His free hand clamped onto her tit, kneading and milking the mound until her nipples grew thick and hard.
She felt weak and exhausted after a few moments' struggle; then another sensation swept over her as he clambered to his knees so she could see his cock.
It stood poking out of a fertile patch of kinky hair, the head bouncing just above her lips. She stared at its nice thick girth and the six-inch length.
"Touch it," he hissed, his lips peeled back into a sneer. "Reach up and touch it!"
She fought the impulse. Her body screamed for her to do it, but her mind thought of Henry. She tried to keep Henry's face and body in the foreground, but it slipped each time the cock bobbled toward her.
"You want to suck it, don't you? This ain't just a black cock--this is a Mau-Mau's cock. Touch it, sister honky. Just touch it once!"
His pants were half off. He knelt, the tawny muscles of his thighs straining, the thick sacs of his balls wavering like two bulbous pendulums above her face. She licked her lips, eyes drilled on the heavy shaft of meat. The foreskin was peeled halfway off, revealing the dark, up-turned bullet head. It was so much larger than Henry's. So much thicker and youthfully strong.
The urge was compulsive, something over which her mind no longer could exert any influence. Hands trembling, she reached up and placed curled fingers around Zimba's cock, closing them one by one until each finger could feel the young boy's heart beat.
"Jesus!" she gasped, pulling the shaft toward her soft, gelatinous lips.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Suspended, detached, she watched the heavy-headed dong being pulled toward her pink, outstretched tongue. It landed softly on the base of her tongue. She curled her lips around the slickened head, working the foreskin back, massaging the rounded tip with her fleecy lips.
He sat motionless, letting her work her tongue around the thick head. She fluttered the tip over the boy's cock-slit, relishing the way his asscheeks snapped together and his muscles spasmed each time she tried to drive her tongue-tip into the small hole.
She worked her hands up between his legs, cupping the bowling-ball globes of his ass in her palms and pulling him down so that the full length of the cock-rod drove far back into her throat.
She bounced the head off the back of her tongue, centering it above her esophagus and began to swallow. The gulping motions made him grunt and groan. She dragged her fingernails down his crack, teasing the puckered rectum as her throaty slurpings resonated throughout his body.
"You're a cocksucking bitch," he moaned admiringly, his hips grinding ever-so-slowly as she slid her nails down to scratch the underside of his balls.
He held onto the handles of her boobs. His fingers clawed the habit open, revealing the creamy mounds of flesh, each topped with a cherry-colored nipple.
His teeth gnashed as her swallowing gulps stirred the seeds deep in his nuts.
The words drummed against her ears. Her fingers flew over the pole, stretching and pulling at the skin until she felt his hips jerk frantically. She grabbed his balls and squeezed, milking them as his hot, gushing semen geysered into her throat. "AHHHHRRRUUUGGHHHH!!" Zimba's fingers hooked like cat's claws into her tits. She slammed his balls together, then shoved up as he let another blast of semen pour into her.
She lay, his cock half-hard in her mouth. She gasped, trying to force air past the heavy-headed instrument lying like a wedge in her throat. She nudged him off and sat up, wiping a trickle of semen from the corner of her mouth.
Her eyes still glassy, an itching burn growing in her loins, she jerked the top of her habit off and climbed up onto his lap.
Cupping her right tit, she milked the nipple to a fine, hard tip and placed it against his lips. He captured it, the pink tip of his tongue licking out to meet the cherry nub.
Before his pecker softened, she grabbed the still-thick tool and planted it in the wet notch of her pussy. Holding it with one hand, she began to rise and fall over it, each stroke causing the cock to stiffen.
She grabbed his head, drove it against the back of the seat and kissed him. Her tongue lanced into his mouth, meeting his thick lingual sword with such force that her head jerked back.
His hands were under her bare, curved, globular ass. The black fingers spread in a web, lifting her and dropping her as his rod rammed deep into the hot, sweltering innards of her cunt.
"Harder," she panted, her tongue lapping at his ear. "Harder! Fuck me harder!"
Inciting a riot in his body, she felt his lunges driving her up against the car's headliner. Again and again he thrust so hard her head smashed against the roof of the car.
"More! More! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
His fingers dug into her ass. She wriggled her ass around in a circle, smashing both against the pressure of his fingers and the frenzy of his powerful jabs.
"More, Zimba! More!"
"Come!" the boy yelled, his neck muscles straining, the veins on his forehead stretched out in relief. "Come, baby! COME!"
The whole car shuddered as they rammed and thrust. She worked the fingerlike muscles of her cunt around his staff, squeezing and kneading the cock-length. Her nails dug long, sharp paths up his spine, cutting and slicing into the soft flesh.
"Fuck . . . ah . . . fuck . . . more . . . hard-er . . . more . . . deep . . . fuck . . . come . . .juice . . . AHHHHHHH!"
Her mouth crushed onto his. Lips and tongues slashed. She sucked his tongue deep into the back of her mouth. The final thrust sent her reeling. She felt the gates giving way and the flood waters of her passion gushing out. At the same instant he exploded-a firehose of semen pressuring into her, filling her pussy and spewing out the sides.
"COME! COME! COME! COME!"
The cries were harmonious. She banged her pelvis against his, snapping out the final, spasming trickles of lust until she was exhausted and lay in a heap over his dwindling shaft.
She lay languorously lapping at his depleted cock. His hand was planted between her legs, the finger rolling around the oiled notch of her twat.
Mary worked the foreskin off the tube-head, licked at the tip, then worked the skin back over the knob. His finger massaged her clit, lifting her up to a near point of orgasm, then quickly removing it so that she stayed on the constant threshold of sexual bliss.
"God, you're beautiful," she said, her fingers working around his black prick, guiding it once more to her mouth. She covered it, licking at the slit, swiping down the side with the flat of her tongue.
"You still want Henry?" he asked.
She sat up, hips humping as he drove his finger deeply into her. She grabbed the dash and back of the seat, lifting her ass up as he jacked another orgasm out of her. Slowly, tiredly, she sank down into the seat, her face washed with relief.
"I don't know. I honestly don't know. I mean, I don't know who I want."
"You're shitting me." He looked hurt. She pulled him against her breast, burying his face in her bare tits.
"I love you, Zimba. I love Henry. And I love a little boy whose name I don't know. And I love Bruno. And maybe I love a girl named Maureen. I know," she said, curling her fingers around Zimba's cock, "that there are hundreds of young men like you and Henry down here that need my love. I know that."
"You gonna advertise?" he said sarcastically.
She shook her head. "No. I'm going to teach. I'm going to find a school down here, with young, handsome boys like you. And I'm going to teach. I'm going to teach you about love."
Zimba laughed acidly. "You mean you're gonna fuck black studs, that's what you mean."
Mary shook her head. "No. Not all the time. I'm going to teach love. Love comes in many forms, Zimba. I'm going to be called Sister Liz. And I'm going to love every black boy in this city. I'm going to teach them a kind of love they'll never know from anyone else."
"Sheeittt."
Zimba sat up and pushed his cock into his pants. "What's the matter?"
"You're fucked up, honky. You think you can come down here and teach and fuck. Sheeitt."
She leaned back in the seat, her mind wandering to the future. She saw herself working in the classroom, then the nice ride home, through the streets clogged with young boys, through the alleys and housing developments filled with the teeming thousands of young children searching for the true answer to love.
"Yes," she said solemnly, working herself back into her clothes. "Yes, where there's a will, there's a way. You do have to admit something, don't you, Zimba?"
Zimba mumbled and turned toward her, his face puzzled.
"What's that?"
"That I really loved you. You do have to admit that what I gave you wasn't just sex."
Zimba started to blurt out an answer, then paused. He cracked a weak smile, his eyes taking a long, last feasting look at her knockers before she hid them behind the habit.
"Sheeiiit. All right. It was the best fuck I've ever had."
"No," she said, holding his eyes sternly. "It was more than that, wasn't it?"
He looked at her eyes, at her sensuous lips, at the faint patch of dried semen around the corner of her mouth, back at the intensity of her eyes again. He nodded.
"It was more, Sister Liz. It was more."
Mary cranked the car to life and wheeled it back into town. She let Zimba off, then drove directly toward Henry's house. Bob's car was out front. She parked behind it and walked straight to the door without checking the streets.
"Mary . . . what the hell . . . ?"
She reached up and gave Bob a wet kiss, brushed past him into the room and said, "Where's Henry?"
Bob shook his head. "I don't know. Who knows? Who cares? Hey, I heard about the incident at school. I'm sorry. I really am."
"Good, then you don't mind if I live here for a while, do you?"
Bob scratched his ear pensively. "Here?"
"That's right. Until I can find a teaching job down here. I can sleep with either of you, Henry or yourself."
She opened the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of wine.
"What if I refuse?"
Mary cocked her leg on the table, enough so that Bob got a full shot of her slender legs and beaver. "You won't," Mary said.
Bob laughed. "What a bitch you turned out to be. What a fucking, good-hearted, sexual, beasty bitch."
"That sounds like a compliment."
Bob joined her in a glass of wine. "Hey, we go' another teacher. An ex-nun like you. Name's Hilda. Real knock-out."
Mary smiled. "Hilda? Well, keep your cock in your pants, Bob. She's a wild one."
Bob looked at her for the second puzzling time, decided not to ask any prying questions and began to rub the delicious smoothness of her thighs.
"The three of us?" he asked as his fingers slithered up to her nest.
"Or more," Mary said, keeping her eyes peeled for Henry and hoping that he might bring some of his friends home. "Yes," she repeated, "and more."
