The economics of an affluent society, aided and abetted by the mass media that sells it, may, in the long run, be responsible for the desire of people for more and more material goods. The acquisition of things becomes a means in itself, replacing meaningful human relationships. It is greed and narcissism that operates here, and the cry is always for more, more and more! In America, especially, it is the rare person who says to himself: What I have is adequate. I do not want or need anything more. I am completely satisfied.
John Reskind has given us a story in The Stepson that deals realistically with the Cardinal sin of greed. Here, we find a lovely, young woman who, seemingly, has everything: A wealthy husband, a mansion in Beverly Hills, beautiful clothing, jewels, powerful, fast cars and servants; these are all hers, in addition to great beauty. She had been a beauty contest winner; subsequently, attaining movie popularity as an actress, then marriage to her director. It sounds almost like a fairy-tale, but like many fairy-tales there is no happy ending. Her greed for more of that which she already has leads her into a cruel trap.
Her greed is as nothing compared to those who would use her, and use her they do! She is entrapped into a life of prostitution.
Now, Reskind presents to us the main theme of The Stepson: Are prostitutes made . . . or born?
An attempt to answer the second part of that question would entail in-depth psychiatric study of, at least, several hundred prostitutes, which would, of course, really be an examination of their childhood environment and influences to determine whether there is a causal relationship operating.
Almost immediately, the careful observer would rule out any inherited characteristic common to all prostitutes; therefore, he would turn his investigative spotlight upon the family life and the members of the family, mother, father and siblings.
One finding that bears a closer look: In families having a weak father, or a missing father, seems to lead to the development of homosexual tendencies in the children . . . both male and female!
A closely related fact: The majority, if not most, of all prostitutes are lesbian, getting their kicks, not from their clients, but from other women, usually prostitutes, also!
We, the publishers, were intrigued with Reskind's development of this idea. Is it possible to lead a naive, innocent girl into a lesbian relationship, thence to a life of prostitution? The author has documented, within a fictional framework, how this very thing was accomplished. The story was told to him, in bits and pieces, over a period of several months by one of the major participants. He agreed to write the story so as to protect innocent parties; therefore, names, locale and situation were changed only slightly to afford this protection. We are delighted to present The Stepson a novel of our times by Jon Reskind.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER I
The black man's ebony skin glistened from his climbing effort, the droplets of perspiration standing out on his face and forming tiny rivulets that had begun to trickle annoyingly down his face and neck. As he gained the portico, stepping cautiously over the railing, he crouched low in order to take a quick look around, all his senses alert to possible discovery. His keen ears told him that his quarry was up and moving around the bedroom, whose double French doors opened out upon the porch where he stood. Good! He was in luck this morning. He would get to see her, again!
Three weeks ago, a few days after he had begun work as a gardener on the Marklin estate, he had climbed to this portico via a tall ladder to trim some overgrown vines. It was then he had seen her, accidentally, for the first time. The memory of what he had seen stirred in him, moving in his very being; the thrust of the pounding blood in his veins arrowed straight and true to the heavy protuberance of his loins. He felt it working there, tumescent and sensual.
Still crouching low, he made his cautious, soundless way to the vantage point at the side of the many-paned door where there was a slight gap in the curtain. He knelt down and put his face close to the opening. Almost the entire room was visible to him, but he did not see her at first. He cursed under his breath. Maybe she was in the bathroom already. Patiently, he waited, telling himself that he was a fool to place himself in such a position. It was dangerous for a black man to have anything to do with a white woman; then, he had to remind himself that he was no longer in Macon. This was Beverly Hills, California. Out here things are different. But . . . are things really different? He could never forget his feeling of shock the first time he had seen a mixed couple walking down the sun-filled street in Hollywood. God! What was that black brother thinking about? He could get himself killed or maimed. The instant memory of a sight that had chilled his blood had raced tormentingly before his eyes. That black man had been beaten. Yes! He had had the living Hell beaten out of him . . . but the black phallus and scrotum cut from the living flesh and crammed into the ever-screaming mouth . . . ! Christ! How could he ever forget that?! From that instant the hate in him boiled to a blackened poisonous brew laced with rumor, hearsay, folklore and misunderstanding. Jack Gordon hated whites! Black was beautiful! White was bigotry! White was power . . . power to crush a black man who stepped out of line, but now . . . here he was, Jack Gordon, Black Man, kneeling in the warm sun on a white woman's porch hoping to catch sight of her in the intimate details of her morning dressing ritual! Shit! It's crazy! Crazy, Man! Crazy! But maybe things are changing . . . changing, so that a black man could walk in peace and dignity . . . and walk with a white woman on his arm-if that's what he wanted to do. Freedom. Civil Rights . . . and Black Power.
Suddenly, she was there before him! The opened bathroom door revealed the pink-white and blonde loveliness of her. He cursed the bath towel draped carelessly at a diagonal across her body as she drifted across the room to stand for a moment beside the bed. The towel came off, sliding down and away and was flung languidly to the bed. His involuntary gasp seemed loud to himself. Christ! He couldn't afford to be discovered there!
The vision before his eyes moved now to the full-length mirrors of the closet doors, the smooth, long-legged loveliness of her, topped with slightly damp golden-blonde hair reflected back to him clearly. The up-thrust mounds of her breasts were alabaster-white, marbled with soft, blue veinings just below the surface of the skin . . . that unbelievably white skin. He watched, lust screaming through him, as her hands, tapered fingers curling caressingly, moved up and cupped those magnificent breasts. Instantly, the areolas, a darker pink against the creamy whiteness, began to pucker, the nipple to harden and lengthen, and he guessed the pleasure she felt, even as he was aware of the throbbing ache in his own balls, his cock rising to hard erectness against the rough material of his work pants. He tried to imagine his own black hands caressing those white half-moons of female flesh, his fingers teasing the coral-pink nipples, his mouth sucking and kissing . . . his cock working deep into that white belly, but at the moment he visualized his black hardness entering her that other remembered vision crowded back into his mind.
With a low, soft moan of hopelessness his hands went to the heaviness of his crotch and closed about the testicles and the hardened shaft of flesh, lifting them, offering them up as a sacrifice to the unattainable goddess he worshipped from afar. Then, he opened the fly; his cock surged forth to be grasped desperately by a stroking fist. The curled fingers moved along the jet-black length of his prick, back and forth, faster and faster until with a groan the white-hot semen jetted from him against the wall next to the door where he knelt. He felt the releasing of sexual tension and cursed himself for a fool. Cautiously, he retraced his steps, buttoning his fly, before he stepped over the railing and climbed carefully to the ground. Why? Why . . . he asked himself . . . why hadn't he broken into her room and taken her . . . did with her as he wanted . . . raped her in one wild moment of sexual abandon . . . instead of jacking-off like some pissy-assed kid? Christ! He knew the answer . . . he just didn't have the nerve! He was scared . . . scared to death! A Black rapist (in his mind) was a dead nigger! A dead nigger with his cock cut off and stuffed into his dying mouth!
* * *
The cupped breasts in her hands were sore to her gentle touch, and Terri, unaware that she was being watched, catalogued the places where she hurt. George's tiny whips had left little or no marks on her body, but she was painfully aware of those spots where he had hit her. He was especially fond of beating her luscious breasts. Now, running her hands over the contours of her body, she winced in pain, as she discovered other tender areas on her curving thighs and softly rounded buttocks. Her hands found the silky, blonde triangle between the softness of her thighs. She probed and explored her hurts there; even those private parts were not exempt from the leather thongs wielded by her husband. With both hands, she gingerly spread the coral lips nestling between the larger halves of her vulva to determine the extent of the havoc George had wrought upon her genitalia.
"Damn!" she sighed. "Damn him!"
She ran a long, tapered finger cautiously into the slit, moving it carefully around the vaginal opening; the raw, exposed nerve endings signaled their abused state and she grimaced in pain.
Her eyes wandered to the partly opened closet door. Rows of exquisite garments, hung carefully in protective plastic covers, awaited her selection. A small fortune, by some standards, was represented by the gorgeous array of dresses and suits. Each was an original . . . very fashionable, very chic . . . and very expensive. Her husband, George Marklin, had supplied the money for their purchase, as he had for the luxurious appointments of the bedroom, the house . . . and the Jag she drove.
The sight of those beautiful clothes seemed to blot the memory of the pain from her mind. She had most everything she had ever wanted . . . marriage to a successful movie director . . . a beautiful home . . . a powerful new car to drive . . . and clothing-all original creations, with accessories to match. She had it made!
Yes! She had it made! From bit player to cameo roles, to stardom . . . then, marriage to her director; it was her marriage that had made all of this affluence possible. But, it was also her marriage that had revealed a whole new and ugly world of sex to her. George Marklin, husband, was not the same man who had courted her with Old World eloquence and courtly manners.
"Beast!" she said to herself, again remembering the wounds on her body. Her hand strayed to a tender breast. Was it worth it? She knew the answer as she reached out to make a selection from a number of suits. Choosing a gay and colorful silk print dress she held it up to her body, her mind aglow with the prospect of her shopping tour planned for that day. Several well known boutiques were having special showings of their new collections. She had received special invitations! After all, she was Mrs. George Marklin and she had unlimited credit at all the salons. Crowded into the back of her mind was any serious consideration of the state of her marriage. The hurts of her voluptuous body were forgotten in the excitement of her preparations for a fabulous day of reckless spending. Yes! It was all worth it.. . to her!
* * *
Dressed in the mini-skirted print, her make-up done to perfection, Terri descended the stairs to the living room, intending to eat a small breakfast before leaving to drive to downtown Beverly Hills. Halfway down the stairs she saw him sprawled on the couch. Involuntary revulsion rose in her. It was Peter Marklin, her stepson, who at nineteen, was only three years her junior. She had not quite adjusted-even yet-to the fact of their relationship, and she was made constantly aware of their nearness in age. Peter had a way of never letting her forget. As she surveyed his figure on the couch, he seemed to be sleeping. Good! The last thing she wanted was another confrontation with the youth. He had been gone for about ten days, and during that time she had lost some of the apprehension he generated in her.
Resolutely, she decided against breakfast; she would leave now, while he slept. She made for the service entrance leading to the garage.
Just as she reached the door, her hand on the doorknob, she was stopped, startled by his voice behind her.
"Terri!"
She whirled to face him, her defenses up. "Peter!" she gasped. "I thought you were asleep . . . ! "
Half-glazed eyes looked down at her. "I was," he said, his dirty hand going uncertainly to the scraggly beard then going to his shoulder-length hair to scratch loose a flake of dandruff. "I was," he repeated, "but I heard you . . . as you floated by . . . and my dream became a reality . . . the vision was you . . . my dear mother. . . . " He leered at her, his eyes sweeping over her trim body in bleary-eyed focus.
The wild look of him frightened her. She had never seen him quite like this. Quickly, she said, "I have some shopping to do. . . . "
She turned to open the door, her only thought to avoid further contact with him. His hand closed over hers on the doorknob and his free hand rested on the jamb. She was trapped between him and the door as he stood close behind her, the uncomfortable closeness suddenly giving rise to a feeling of panic.
"Peter," she said, trying to make her voice firm, authoritative, "stop playing games!"
Turning in the circle of his arms, her eyes blazing up at him, she put both hands against his chest and shoved him roughly away. As she did so, she was aware of the filthy condition of his nondescript clothing, the stench of them filling her nostrils. Unconsciously, she noted as he stumbled back a pace that his fly was unbuttoned; the bulge of his erect penis pushing against the dirty shorts came part way through the opening.
"What's the matter, mother dear . . . don't you dig me . . . ? "
"Don't be impossible!" she snapped.
"Hey, you're groovy when you're mad like.. . . "
He came close to her, again, his lips twisted into a leer. She backed away until she touched the door. Whirling, she gained the doorknob and wrenched it open. In a moment she had gained the sanctuary of her car. The garage door had been left open by her husband. The way was clear for her escape. She keyed the powerful engine into life, slipped the transmission into reverse and gunned the sleek car out into a circular drive. She saw him in the rear view mirror. He stood in the door of the garage, his fly fully open, both hands grasping his erect manhood. As she drove rapidly down the driveway he waved the rampant phallus in a signal approximating a good-bye.
"My God . . . ! " Terri said aloud to herself. "I don't believe it!"
* * *
Terri drove for several moments; meanwhile, trying desperately to change the direction of her thoughts. Try as she might she could not erase that final scene from her mind.
Peter's youth she decided was the problem. They were too close together in age. How she was to cope with him she didn't know. She did know that the first thing would be never allowing herself to be alone with her step-son.
She stopped at a chic downtown restaurant for lunch, joining literally thousands of other women in a lonely quest for something . . . something that she didn't quite recognize. Ostensibly, her search this morning was for more beautiful clothing to cover her beautiful hollow body; hollow because she was unfulfilled, and so the search went on . . . would go on; indeed, it must go on!
Then, she remembered Ben . . . Ben Whitlow was his name, and she realized how nearly a-like they were . . . Ben when she had been seventeen and Peter, now.
When you're seventeen . . . in high school . . . playing the game, you know everything is right . . . right for you and all the other groovy kids your age, because adults are wrong! They don't understand kids. The teachers, especially . . . they're still living in the stone age!
You wear the costume and speak the jargon . . . because it's yours, exclusively . . . and you feel real far-out . . . you're with it! And your parents don't understand you. You want it that way! If the deep-down truth were known . . . you want it that way because you don't understand yourself . . . and that's too painful! You're an in-between-not a child and not an adult-so you play the game.
And the game . . . ? What are the rules of the game? No . . . they're not written down and organized into a book like baseball and football. There isn't any manual you can follow. It's like follow the leader. And who are the leaders? They're the new elite . . . the singers . . . the disc jockeys . . . the new generation of movie actors and the New Left student leaders. These set the trends in speech, clothing and attitudes. Reject the old! Only the new is worthwhile . . . and never trust anybody over twenty-five!
Terri grinned to herself, remembering how close she, herself, was to that dreaded age. How she had changed! It was hard for her to believe that it had been such a short time ago.
You talked about the singing groups . . . about drugs . . . and sex. Mostly, you talked. You knew that there were some kids who were turned on to drugs, but there really weren't so very many of them. Some of them got busted. You defended drugs-that was the thing to do-but you didn't take dings. You knew the jargon . . . popping pills downers, uppers . . . dropping acid . . . blowing grass . . . getting busted by the pigs: It was all part of the game . . . wasn't it?
Sex was part of the talking game . . . everybody talked frankly and openly about sex. According to the way they talked . . . everybody was turned on to sex . . . everybody was doing it . . . some were doing it every night . . . and they knew every way to do it. They knew all the words and used them. It was real groovy!
And Ben Whitlow was the most turned on. His hair was long. He wore a moustache and the most far-out clothes. He had been the center of a flap about long hair, beards and non-conformist clothing . . . the school was insisting on adherence to the dress code for students, but Ben's father, an attorney, had pressed the school board, taking Ben's case to court where he had won.
The uptight community was licked. The kids took over. They dressed and acted almost any way they chose. It was fun time. The establishment was backed to the wall. Well . . . almost all, but not Terri's parents. They bent a little; they allowed Terri some freedom, but mostly they tried to hold the rebellious girl within reasonable bounds. Terri was angry and frustrated with them. She considered running away from home. She didn't run away, fortunately. Instead, she rebelled in other ways. She would stay out too late, sitting in Ben's car talking and petting. Eventually, the petting got out of hand. She hadn't wanted it to go that far; there was still something of respect in her for her parents' values. She would not have admitted it . . . but it was there, in her basic character. If she had examined her thinking closely, she would have realized that she still wanted to save it for her future husband.
Ordering a second cup of coffee, Terri grimaced wryly to herself. Yes, she had managed to save it for her husband; then wondered, cynically, to herself whether it had been worthwhile. Momentarily, she was aware of the pains last night's session had produced.
It had been a lark . . . lying to her parents telling them she and Ben were going across town to a movie-then driving to Ben's house . . . all pre-arranged, since his parents were out-of-town for a long, four-day weekend. At least, it had started out as a lark---They were going to play house!
"But don't get any ideas, Ben . . . no imagine ideas!" she had warned.
"Don't you trust me, Terri Baby?"
"You know I do . . . I've already let you . . . " she began, her face coloring in a flush.
"Finger your cunt!" he finished for her.
"And that's as far as it goes!" she snapped.
"Cool it, Baby . . . no need to get uptight!"
Ben had made them tall, cool drinks, and they were outside, lounging beside the kidney-shaped swimming pool. The alcohol swam in her brain. Images and the memories of them were not quite clear. Suddenly, she was in the pool completely clad . . . and she couldn't remember . . . had she fallen . . . or was she pushed?
Terri remembered the details of the rest of that evening. Actually, she would remember them for the rest of her days.
Ben helped her from the pool, and together they went into the house to change. Terri even managed a laugh at their predicament.
"What a sight I must be . . . my hair so wet and stringy . . . ! "
"Groovy!"
She scowled. "Can we put these things in the dryer?"
"Of course," he said, ". . . only forty-five minutes.. . . "
"And can I wear something of your mother's while . . . ? "
"Yeah, man . . . like one of her sexy nightgowns!"
"No sex . . . remember? You promised!"
"Oh, did I promise . . . ? "
"You know you did!" she said, quickly.
"But I get ideas when I see naked women. . . . "
"I'm not.. . naked yet.. . . "
"You Will be . . . and I've got a good imagination!"
Terrified toward a bathroom, flinging over her shoulder, "Be good, now . . . and bring me a pair of your mother's capris . . . or something.. . . "
She didn't hear Ben mutter, "Baby . . . it'll be the 'or something!' "
In the tiled bathroom, Terri undressed, stripping the wet, clammy garments from her budding voluptuousness and grabbing a fluffy towel to dry herself. She watched her reflection in the full-length mirror with fascination-her parents had never installed one in their home-studying carefully what she saw there. Ever since she had become a woman; she knew she was a woman the first time her menses had appeared, she had had a more than curious interest in her own body. She noted the creamy smoothness of her skin, her high taut but small breasts, not yet filled out, no extra flesh on her ribs and belly, the gentle slope of her shoulders, her narrow waist and curvingly swelling hips. Her long length of leg, their shapeliness of tapering thigh, slightly dimpled knees and curving calves into trim ankles, all grounded on long, narrow feet, had always pleased her, and she turned before the mirror, surveying herself critically. She liked most of what she saw-the only thing she wished for fervently was that her breasts were filled out a little more . . . and her buttocks were a little more boyish than she thought they might be; otherwise . . . well, she knew that she was feminine and desirable.
She dropped the lid of the commode and sat down to dry her feet. The soft, silky blondness of the hair at the vee of her thighs drew her attention. Gently, a hand crept to it and lightly massaged the mound. Suddenly, she was aware of the tingling warmth, of fullness and desire. She slipped a finger into the slit and found the bud of her clitoris pulsingly erect. God! She felt hot, remembering with a quick blush, the time when Ben had used his finger on her. She had both liked it and hated it . . . hated it because she had been as putty in his hands; she had almost succumbed that time . . . she had been on the verge of telling him to go ahead . . . put his cock in her . . . and fuck her . . . fuck her good!
It must be the drink, she decided, that had gotten her so worked up. Her experience with alcohol had been very limited. She was not sure what her reactions to its effects were, but she did know that the feelings generated in her spelled danger! Well . . . she would have to see to it she kept her head, tonight.
As Terri sat, languidly, smoking a cigarette and drinking her coffee, remembering how she had been that night . . . when she had been on the point of taking that giant step into adulthood . . . when she had been a frightened teenager . . . scared of the unknown . . . ready, but unready, yet.. . knowing, yet not knowing what to expect, she became acutely aware that the recreation in her thoughts of that night had not been wasted . . . her body was reacting. The keening desire in her loins caused her to shift uncomfortably in her chair. Carefully, she re-crossed her legs, and the new position pressed her thighs close together against the distended flesh of her cunt. The inner petals were compressed and demanded release; the viscous fluids began to flow, oozing from the walls of the channel and the silken briefs she wore pressed hard against the clitoral shaft. She was getting hot! . . . But, Christ! . . . What could she do about it? She wouldn't dare do what she knew other women did-perhaps even some in that restaurant. They picked up men during the day, had their sex fun time, and, presumably, their husbands were none the wiser. But George? God! George had made it clear to her that she would never be unfaithful to him! His was a consuming jealousy. If he ever carried out even a small portion of what he threatened . . . ! She shuddered. Her husband was certainly a strange man, to put it mildly. Forcefully, she put him out of her mind. Her reverie returned. She was back in Ben Whitlow's house, naked in the bathroom. Then, as she remembered, her thighs moved imperceptibly, back and forth, against the tumescent genitalia. Her loins demanded release, and unconsciously she began to provide it.
The door to the bathroom opened slowly, gently and almost noiselessly. Terri jumped to her feet from where she sat on the commode, the towel held instinctively in front of her. Ben stood there, tall and unmoving, wearing only his tight jockey shorts, his long hair and scraggly moustache. The lustful look in his eyes was frightening. She gasped aloud, her eyes widened in fear.
"Ben! You promised me . . . !
He stepped toward her, his slender but somewhat muscular body exuding his sexual self-confidence. His head shook from side to side, negatively, and his mouth worked.
"No! I didn't promise you . . . anything . . . remember?"
"Then, she saw the bulge in his shorts, the prominent protuberance pointing right at her through the thin cloth.
"My God, Ben . . . ! We can't . . . do it.. . ! What if your folks were to come back . . . w-walk in on us.. . " she faltered, trying to find some reason to make him change his mind.
"No way!" he said. "They're down at the beach with another couple . . . the Maynards . . . and if my guess is right, they're having a swap meet. They're a real swinging foursome!"
"You mean . . . y-your mother and father . . . a-are doing it with another couple . . . ? " she asked, a sudden truth dawning on her. To re-enforce her supposition, she went on, "Y-Your father and Mrs. Maynard . . . and Mr. Maynard . . . a-and y-your mother . . . ? "
"Hell! Do I have to spell it out for you? They're like one big, happy family! Jack and Jill . . . and Betty and Bob.. . . You might say they believe . . . the family that balls together stays together!" He grinned at his own humor.
"Oh, Lord! I-I never dreamed. . . . "
. . . But, then, he had reached for her, tugging the towel from her grasp and dropping it to gather her into his strong, young arms, her naked flesh pressed tightly and helplessly against him as he kissed her with, ardent passion, flattening and spreading her lips, his tongue probing, until she uncontrollably thrust her tongue searchingly into his mouth, tasting the sour-sweetness of him.
The hollow fright in the pit of her stomach came to life, and her legs became rubbery as she felt herself being transported by them out of the bathroom and into a bedroom, her body plastered to his as they moved almost as one person, the stabbing lightning in her loins overriding the fear . . . the fear of the consequences of the situation.
Together, they seemed to float across the floor, the giddiness in her head, the lack of strength in her body weakening her resistance, and she fluttered down under the pressure he exerted until they were both stretched out on top of the queen-size bed of his parents. She moaned once, aloud.
"NOooo!"
His mouth covered hers, again, and muffled the sound, his hands beginning to explore the nakedness of her body. She felt his hands cup and caress the swell of her breasts . . . the nipples begin to distend as he squeezed them, gently, with his fingers. She whined feebly as the sensations keened within her.
"Please, Ben . . . no!" she pleaded, ever more aware of her danger.
It was as though she had not spoken; his hands were prowling her body with a mind of their own, his own brain senseless to other stimuli. His fingers roamed over ribs and belly, brushing the velvety down of her pubic mound until the sexy prickling between her legs caused her to squirm away. Still, his hands followed her, a finger probing the splayed coral lips of her vagina, opening the tender, slightly bearded mouth below as his tongue probed deeper into her oral cavern, above. She moaned, again, softly, writhing against him, unable to control the sensations that throbbed in her cunt.
"Oh, darling . . . Ben!" she panted into his mouth. "Oh, God, we can't. . . ! We mustn't . . . Ben!"
Quickly, then, he had slipped his shorts from his slim hips, and she heard the harsh breathing deep in his chest, his lustful, young voice mouthing words.
"Term . . . Terri, Baby! I've got to . . . I've got to fuck you!"
Then, she felt the huge, hot throbbing of his hardened penis pressed against the smooth flesh of her thigh. His fingers continued their assault on her tingling channel, burrowing deeper and deeper into the secret depths down between her legs. She jerked her hips aside, a soul-searing moan coming from deep in her chest as she arched her neck, her head rolling from side to side in futile negativity; meanwhile, she ground her hips deep into the mattress, moving her full rounded buttocks back and down to escape the digital rape of her helplessly exposed vagina. Her squirming was to no avail; his finger ravished her relentlessly.
"Oh, no! No, no, no!" she whined, her teeth grinding, as the effects of the sensations in her loins rebounded inside her skull.
Again, he dropped his shaggy-maned head to her full rounded young breast, cupping it in his hand, his mouth sucking up the tiny, throbbing nipple deep into the moist warmth of his oral cavity.
She moaned, again, imploringly, "Dear God," knowing that somehow she must stop him . . . before it was too late.
His wettened mouth began a gentle nibbling on her neck and down along her smoothly sloping shoulder that sent goose bumps racing over her flesh. She shivered delicately, uncontrollably with the sudden and unexpected sensation; then. again, his avid lips fastened to an erect nipple, sliding it quickly in and out of his mouth while maintaining a gentle sucking pressure. The sensuous, slicing sensation caused her to gasp with pleasure . . . a pleasure she knew was wicked and dangerous.
Below, his hand eased from her vagina, and, now, together, both roamed lightly over her body, paying court to the firmness of belly and thighs, cupping and grasping her breasts and massaging the lightly curling hair covering the triangle at the cusp of her trembling, milk-white thighs. She attempted more protest both with words and her hands, trying feebly to entrap and stop their wanton play on her body, but neither her voice nor her hands would answer her call.
Then, his ever-questing mouth was sliding down, down over her quivering belly, his hardened penis moving in the soft hair-lined furrow of her clamped legs. His tongue flicked into her navel for a moment, swirling around in it and raising soft mewling gasps of pleasure from her now opened mouth. Again, she endeavored to stop him, but her will and her body had become, seemingly, momentarily paralyzed. His head moved lower, quickening patterns of maddening sensations trailing after his lustful tongue on her abdomen, the inner surfaces of her thighs where they joined . . . and finally, his tongue was thrusting down into the slightly exposed slit, the sparse young pubic hair parting easily for him.
With great effort she found a croaking voice. "No, Ben! No!" But he paid no attention; he concentrated only on the demands of his body.
She felt her thighs being levered gently apart, and she could make no resistance as he knelt down between them, reaching out to possess that most secret place of her body. Her breath sucked in with a gasp as she felt his thumbs pressing Outward, spreading the down-covered lips of her cunt to his salacious gaze. The cool air of the night washed over her, and she had never before felt so naked . . . so exposed and vulnerable.
Ben's tongue flicked forward, its tip teasing moistly the canopied bud of her clitoris, causing it to throb into instant hardened life of its own. He lowered his fingers and spread her cuntal opening even wider and dropped his tongue from her clitoris to the coral pink and moistened flesh of her love passage.
Terri's pelvis jerked from the sudden contact of his wet tongue; shooting sparks of Roman candles were there, and she reached down to tangle her fingers in the mop of his hair, pulling his face hard against her naked loins. His agile tongue probed, circling around, tantalizingly, maddeningly, inside her, the tip of it flicking against the moist, sensitive lining of her pussy. Intense, insane spasms shot through her naked, defenseless body, demanding sexual fulfillment.
. . . And, yet . . . something within her cried out against it.
"OOooohhh," a long, agonized groan rose from deep in her throat; she heard herself as she moaned down at him, "Ben . . . we've got to stop! We can't . . . go on! We can't. . . ! " Then, to her own amazement and a compounded confused disappointment she felt him moving up over her, leaving her unsatiated cunt, roaringly alive with the flames of her passion, and he was kissing her, again, thrusting his tongue deep into her throat, as he took her hand and guided it to his demanding cock. With his lean, strong fingers he curled her tiny hand around the hard shaft of rampant male flesh.
She surprised herself and let her hand remain where he had placed it. She felt the length and breadth of it. Lord! It was huge! Never before had she been aware of its massiveness. Heavens, it would kill her . . . split her vagina wide open!
It throbbed against the palm of her hand. She could feel the warmth of it, the silky smoothness of the head, and, somehow, it delighted her. How she'd love to have it buried to its hilt in her inflamed cunt.. . this very moment!
Instinct guided her and she began to stroke and massage the hot, pulsing member she held in her hand, pulling the foreskin back and tan-talizingly nibbing the expanding head with her fingers. Boldness, born of curiosity, led her, self-consciously, to slip her hand downward, feeling for his balls. The hairiness, the silky yet wrinkled texture of him amazed her. She had heard or read somewhere that they were easily hurt, and she stroked them gently, lovingly, holding them in the palm of her hand. They were, she remembered, where the sperm was manufactured. Suddenly, she realized why men guarded them so carefully.
Ben, beside her, was grinding his teeth and grunting between agonized breaths. Then, cold against her thigh, she felt wetness and wondered if he had shot his cum already. His prick was still hard in her hand; it must be the small tears of lubricant that men produce, she decided.
"Terri . . . darling . . . my God! I want you! I've got to fuck you!" he ground out between clenched teeth.
"No . . . Ben, darling . . . no! It's no good You'd hate me afterward . . . not respect me!" she moaned, the foul obscenity he had used sending a shock of lewd excitement coursing through her, as her loins trembled with need of him.
"We're not talking about . . . respect! It's love . . . loving! Damn it . . . don't you see . . . ? I've got to . . . ! You can't leave me . . . like this . . . high and dry . . . if you really love me ... "
God! She must let him, her body, the physical side of her being told her, but her mind still struggled to maintain some semblance of control of her runaway senses. She wanted it! She wanted him! She wanted that big cock working in her! God! How badly she wanted! She couldn't stop herself now! It was a losing battle she fought with herself!
"Terri.. . " he grated in her ear, "I can't wait.. . ! God! I can't . . . wait . . . any longer . . . ! "
The length of his body rolled on top of her, his frantic face above her, where she read the lust and determination that drove him, and, it was then, that something in her snapped her back to reality; perhaps it was the realization that the game had become real . . . too real, and that the stakes were high . . . higher than she wanted to go!
"No! Ben! No! I can't let you do it . . . and make a complete mess of everything . . .for us!"
Her mouth was imprisoned by his, but she talked wetly into his mouth, her words muffled, even as he tried to work his rock-hard shaft between her tightly clasped thighs. "Listen to me, darling . . . please, listen to me! It's not right . . . for us . . . arid we'll both be sorry. It'll be so much better. . .for both of us . . . if we wait.. . . "
"I've waited too damned long. Baby! I'm going to fuck you . . . right now!" he grunted.
She hugged him close to her and kissed him hard as he continued to jab his prick down through the upper part of her moistly hair-lined slit, trying desperately to reach the opening of her smooth coral passage blocked from him between her closely clamped thighs, his every movement sending wild sensations keening through her as his cock rubbed against the erect bud of her clitoris.
"Please, oh, please, Ben . . . isn't there something else . . . I could do . . . ? " she pleaded, realizing that it would, somehow be inhuman to stop him from gaining the relief, the sexual release, he obviously needed, but he seemed oblivious to her words as she reached down between them to take his hardened shaft in both hands only seconds before he levered her legs apart with his own lean, muscular thighs, his prick thrusting toward the defenseless portal nestling at the cusp of her loins.
Then, suddenly, as she held his thick, rampant and rampaging organ in her tiny hands and he continued to pump wildly away, he emitted a harsh grating cry. She felt his cock expand and contract, again and again, in her hands, accompanied by his helpless gasps of passion as his love juices began to spurt from him. The hot, white fluid splashed wetly onto her abdomen, and she felt it run thickly over her thighs and down the hollows between them.
Finally, with a huge groan, he collapsed on top of her, heavily, panting and sobbing, child-like in his explosive release. She caressed his head where it lay between her breasts and thought to herself: OH, GOD! I WANTED IT TO HAPPEN . . .BUT NOT NOW! NOT LIKE THIS! WAS I WRONG TO . . . TO KEEP HIM OUT?
Ben sat up slowly, not looking at her. He eased his frame over to the side of the bed and stretched his legs over the side; he reached to a box of tissues, extracted several and handed
Terri a few of them. She followed his lead, wiping herself as best she could, surprised at the sticky feeling his semen left on her skin. She pushed her hair back from her face and slid across the bed to him; her arms went around his waist and she buried her face in his shoulder.
"Sorry . . . Baby . . . " he muttered softly. "I guess I shouldn't have come on so strong.. . . "
Terri's nerves were still on edge from lack of satisfaction. She decided not to let it show. She kissed the nape of his neck.
"Get me something to wear . . . and we'll get my clothes into the dryer . . . O.K.? " she said, lightly.
He nodded, arose, fumbled in the closet and found a dressing robe of his mother's. Handing it to her, he asked, "This O.K.? "
"Perfect!" She got up from the bed and slipped into the garment.
Ben hesitated, standing, uncertainly, near the door, still nude, his flaccid penis hanging innocently, now.
She noticed his uncertainty, wondered about it. Wondered if he was thinking of trying, again.
"You'll take me right home . . . as soon as my things are dry?"
"Yeah, O.K.. . . " he agreed. He turned and left the bedroom. She heard him enter his own room, down the hallway, and she knew it would be all right.
Suddenly, as Terri sat at the restaurant table, she realized what she had been doing. God! She had made herself hot! She was close-too close-to orgasm. Hastily, she gathered her purse and made her way quickly to the plush rest-room. Then safely in the privacy of a cubicle, she gratefully allowed herself the luxury of a gasping self-induced orgasm, using her hand to stimulate and massage her throbbing clitoris. It was a surgingly welcome release, but her feelings were mixed; she was glad and relieved, physically, but there was still the repugnance for the act, the feeling of guilt that had been ingrained in her from early childhood. It was something a nice girl did not do!
Emerging from the enclosure, she found herself face-to-face with a svelte, chicly dressed woman, who, at the exact instant, was just coming out of the adjoining cubicle.
Suddenly, Terri realized that she had not been alone; however, she was quite certain she had been the only occupant when she had entered the lounge. This woman must have come in later while she . . . had been occupied with her own debased relief. She felt her face reddening. God! This woman knew!
A quick, friendly smile on the other woman's face put her, at least, partially at ease. She smiled a tenuous smile of her own and headed for the door. The last thing she wanted was a stranger knowing who she was.
"T-Thank you . . . I'm glad . . . " Terri said weakly, turning again to leave that confined place and perhaps . . . an embarrassing incident . . . if the woman were to refer to what had just taken place.
"You're even more beautiful, in person, than on the screen," the other continued. The woman, somewhat taller than Terri, stood directly behind her, and she was aware of the exquisite perfume, the obviously cultured tones of her voice and the nearness, the uncomfortable nearness that made Terri's skin crawl with apprehension.
"You flatter . . . me," Terri said in a small voice. "I-I really don't feel like I-I'm that much.. . . "
"You're a very lovely woman . . . a woman to be loved . . . " the other said, softly; then, continued, ". . . to be loved . . . properly.. . . "
Terri turned to face the stranger, her face flushed. "If you'll excuse me," she said, "I must be going.. . . "
The woman's eyes bored into her, and Terri looked away, quickly, recognizing, at once, the meaning of the words reflected there. She read burning desire. She had seen it in the eyes of men . . . but a woman, never. Hastily, Terri swung the door open, but the woman's hand on her arm restrained her. The stranger's voice crooned, "Don't be hasty! There are many delights to be found . . . in the arms of another woman. I could make your life something unbelievable!"
"Please . . . y-you don't understand . . . I-I'm married . . . and my husband . . . " Terri fumbled, at the same time attempting to leave the room.
"But . . . I do understand! Otherwise . . . " the woman's pause was significant, loaded with meaning.
Terri wrenched herself free of the woman's grasp on her arm. "Let go of me!" she snapped.
Instead, the tall, strange woman leaned forward and kissed Terri full on the mouth. Somehow, it both intrigued her and repulsed her, at the same time. The soft, yet warm and flooding passion of the woman's mouth on her own made swift lightning strokes along her nerve endings that she could never have explained.
Lifting her head, the woman looked into Terri's eyes. "If you change your mind . . . call me at this number . . . after seven."
Terri looked down at the scrap of paper thrust into her hand. It bore only a telephone number. "W-What . . . ? " she stammered.
"Ask for Pauline!" the woman said, and swept regally through the door.
Numbly, not knowing what she was doing, Terry, automatically, stuffed the scrap of paper into her purse, self-consciously checked her makeup in the mirror, brushed at an imaginary out-of-place lock of hair, left the room, paid her check and found her way to her car. At this point, she was too dumbfounded to realize, or even to contemplate, the importance to her of this encounter with Pauline Riggs.
Finally, after long moments, sitting at the wheel of her car, she heaved a long sigh. "I don't believe it," she said to herself.
She started the car, swung out of the parking lot and headed for the first salon showing she had planned to attend that day, but as she drove, she could not shake the images of that bizarre encounter from her mind. The words, the voice, the woman were still there, rattling around in her skull, but mostly, it was the kiss . . . a woman's kiss that she remembered!
CHAPTER 2
Terri attended showings at only two salons before she returned home early, sick at heart and seething with rage and frustration. She had been informed so very tactfully and with perfect diplomacy that her charge accounts were closed. Cash payment was now the order of the day . . . "I'm sure you will understand, Mrs. Marklin . . . but Mr. Marklin. . .
She understood, all right. George had cut her off, but why hadn't he the decency to tell her himself? It had been embarrassing, humiliating and degrading for her, especially in the shops where she was quite well known.
Going directly to her bedroom, thankful that her step-son, Peter, didn't seem to be around, she stripped herself naked and drew a hot bath. She soaked and luxuriated in the bubble bath, washing away her aches and cares. Not really knowing what to expect when her husband came home, she needed this time for herself. There was bound to be a confrontation. It would probably be ugly. In the short space she had been married to George Marklin she had learned much about him, but on reflection, she had to admit, she didn't really know him.
* * *
Terri had been captured by the silver screen; she was enthralled by the magic and glamour of the people who inhabited the never-never land of Hollywood. She knew that someday that life would be hers. Everything she did was aimed at only one thing: She, too, would be a rich and famous movie star, a sex goddess in that almost unattainable Olympus where the legends and myths were manufactured.
It had not been easy. She had, literally, clawed her way upwards. Entering beauty contests of every sort, she had learned how to use her body and face to best advantage, and along the way she had had to defend herself from those who wanted to take advantage of her. More than once she had had to keep some sex-hungry beauty contest manager at bay. She knew that she could have done it differently; other girls of her acquaintance had gone that route . . . on their backs, but Terri had decided that that would not be her way. Had success been hers? Yes, it had. She had won two contests fair and square. She was noticed. She did get some small acting parts; finally, she was signed for a supporting role, which she handled adequately. She was known-not famous or rich-but she was somebody in Hollywood. Then came her big chance. She was signed to a starring role. George Marklin was her director, and the whole world was her cup of tea . . . for a few months.
George Marklin, director, man-of-the-world, European born, was like no man Terri had ever met. It was a thrill for her, each and every day, that she worked for him. His sure and skillful direction brought out the best in her. The result was well worthwhile. The picture received good notices and good box office returns.
During the course of making the picture, Terri accepted several dates with Marklin. His manners were beyond question. He wooed her in true European style. Finally, he asked for her hand in marriage, and Terri knew that her world was complete. What more could she ask for from life?
Little did she know what life had in store for her as wife to George Marklin. She embarked upon her married life buoyant and full of hope. Fortunately, she was flexible, for she soon learned how far she had to bend. Had she not had this flexibility, she would have been broken and ruined both physically and mentally.
As she soaked in the tub, trying desperately to relax, her mind wandered, and she found herself thinking, again, about her wedding night. She had been so careful to bring her virginity intact to her wedding night bed. She wondered whether or not it had been worth the trouble. Morbidly, she reflected on it. George Marklin was a beast!
Terri had had a beautiful wedding. She had made careful preparations and plans for it. Everything had gone off beautifully. Soon after the wedding reception, George had whisked her away, driving rapidly into the mountains where he had rented a secluded cabin for their honeymoon. She had had her heart set on a South American cruise, but George had ruled otherwise. He wanted to be alone with her. There would be too many people on a cruise ship. And, so it was, that Terri's wedding night, a night she would always remember, was spent in a mountain cabin.
George had already consumed several drinks during the reception. After unpacking, he nursed a tall highball, standing stockily near the fireplace, watching Terri, narrowly, as she moved about arranging things to her satisfaction.
"It is time," he pronounced, finally, "to get into bed and consummate our marriage!" He spoke thickly with a slight Italian accent. Terri had wondered about his manner of speech, and before they were married, he confided to her that he had changed his name for professional reasons; however, he did not tell her what his name had been before the change.
"All right, darling . . . just as soon as I arrange my clothing in the closet," Terri answered.
"I mean . . . now!" he snapped.
Terri looked up quickly, saw the look that accompanied his words and decided that she best drop what she was doing and attend to her marital obligations. She knew there would be sex; that was part of being married. For that she was prepared. She wanted desperately to be a good wife.
"Yes, of course, George darling . . . if you insist.. . . "
Louder, now, with more authority, he said, "I insist! One thing you must understand clearly . . . I am the head of my household! What I say is law!"
This authoritative side of her husband had been revealed to her earlier, when they had been working on the picture together, but she was somewhat surprised that he found it necessary to say it to her this bluntly . . . on their wedding night.
"The man is always . . . is expected to lead . . . isn't he?"
"Yes! I just want to make sure you understand that!"
"I understand, darling," she said, sweetly.
"Then get into bed!" he roared. "I'm going to de-flower you!"
"De-De-flower . . . m-me . . . ? " she stuttered. "W-What do you m-mean . . . ? "
"Oh, that is from the old country . . . " he said. "Here they call it getting the cherry, I believe," he grinned.
Terri turned away in embarrassment, her cheeks flushing. She knew she was still virgin; nothing larger than a finger had ever been inside her. The memory of that night with Ben tingled through her.
"I'll change into my nightgown . . in the bathroom," she said, picking up the garment.
Slamming the highball glass down, he had reached her in two quick strides. He pushed his livid face, the anger flashing from his eyes, down next to her own blushing countenance. She realized, on the instant, that he was drunker than she had thought he was. His mouth worked, roaring and sputtering into her face, "No! God damn it! Strip! I'm going to fuck you, now!"
Unconsciously, she began to back away from him; she was frightened of his sudden anger, the authoritative manner and the vulgar obscenity that still hung in the air between them.
The backs of her knees contacted the edge of the bed, but she caught her balance. George stood close to her, his voice softer now, but more deadly, "You are my wife, now! You will do as I say! There will be no arguments!"
His hand shot out, a short, punishing, open-handed slap to the side of her face. She fell back sprawling on the bed, a gasp of pain and disbelief escaping her twisted lips.
"OOooh! George!"
. . . Then, she saw him stagger toward her, his hands fumbling with his belt buckle. Her breath caught in her throat, and in confused panic she swung herself from the opposite side of the bed, gained her feet and dashed blindly for the door. She grabbed the knob and pulled frantically. It was locked!
George's hard laugh behind her caused her to swing back to face him. He grinned at her lewdly, his tongue darting out to wet his full, sensuous lips.
"Even if you could get out . . . where would you go?" he gloated thickly. His eyes blazed, "Strip, I said! Make yourself naked!"
Faltering with fear, she pleaded, "G-George . . . please, George . . . not this way . . . can't y-you give m-me some time . . . t-to.. . . "
"There's only time for fucking! Get your clothes off!"
"Oh, my God!" she had gasped, repulsed again at the sound of the obscene word; then, she could only watch, petrified and fascinated while her dear husband of only a few hours continued to remove his clothes. It suddenly became clear to her that this man was not the same man she had married. There must be some horrible mistake! Could she have, unwittingly, become involved with some horrible monster-a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Oh, God!
At last, he stood, block-like before her, his thick, stocky body nudely licentious, his penis hard and rampant, sticking out from muscular, hairy loins like some awesome instrument of torture. The scrotal sac hung heavily below, and Terri gasped in total disbelief as she watched him drop a hand to his genitals, grasping the balls, pulling them up and hefting them in his hand. With an effort she tore her eyes from the lewd spectacle. She didn't want to look, but inexorably her eyes were drawn back, again; now, his beefy hand moved to enfold the shaft of the heavy organ, his hand stroking the heavy, uncircumcised foreskin back and forth over the reddish-purple cowl of the bulbous head. The thick organ jerked to his self-gratifying touch, and she stared in fascinated abhorrence as she thought she detected a drop of colorless, viscid fluid seep from the tiny slit at the tip.
"You do find it fascinating . . . don't you my dear?" he leered obviously relishing the shameful torment he was inflicting on her. "I would be willing to bet that you had no idea your darling husband was this well endowed . . . how do they say it here . . . heavy hung?"
"P-Please . . . is it. . . n-necessary t-to.. . . "
He laughed lewdly, "Yes! Just wait until I get this into your tight little cunt! You will fully appreciate it then!" Moving toward her, giving the impression almost of a stalking beast of prey . . . or a hunting dog on the point, he went on with his debasing monologue, "I will tell you one thing . . . this cock has made more than one little bitch beg for mercy!"
"Ugh!" her cry of revulsion tore from her lips.
Marklin started to laugh, then caught him-self. He had had a new thought. "You do have a virgin cunt . . . don't you?" His eyes narrowed menacingly, "It had better be!"
"There's n-never been anybody . . . e-else . . . " she faltered.
"And . . . another thing you must know about me," he croaked, "never lie to me . . . ever!"
Tears began to spill over her eyelids to run down her cheeks. She felt so much on the defensive, and now this, this doubt in her husband's mind about her virginity.. . even her veracity. She could stand no more.
"Stop it! Stop tormenting me!" she had shouted at him, her face paling now with the fury she felt.
He watched the change in her, as her face contorted with anger and repugnance, but he went on with his torment, advancing steadily on her, his rigid, fleshy member in his hand, his mouth-working again, "Very pretty, my dear! Why couldn't I get a performance like this while we were shooting on location?"
Terri's hypnotized eyes followed his advance. My God! No woman could ever take that monstrous thing inside her. It would tear her apart! Rip her insides to shreds!
"D-Don't you dare come any closer, George! Don't touch me!" she blurted, the loathing and fear searing her mind and viscera equally. But she knew that words were meaningless and futile. Her husband was going to take her helpless, virginal body no matter how she pleaded with him or begged him for mercy. She was going to be raped! Oh, God! This wasn't the way she wanted it to be . . .for the first time! She had saved it . . . fought to save it . . . for all those years . . .for this! Saved it . . . only to be raped on her wedding night! The irony of it was not entirely wasted on her. But worse . . . dear God! He had a right to take her! It couldn't really be called rape! Were husbands ever taken to law for wedding night rape? She knew the answer. It was a resounding NO!
"Well, are you going to do as I say . . . strip off those clothes . . . or do I remove them for you . . .in shreds ? "
Terri had stood there completely helpless, defenseless, petrified with terror and shock, until he had reached out for her, jerking her body in to his broad, hairy chest, a strong hand going behind her head, holding it rigid while his wet, sensuous lips covered hers tightly, his tongue lashing deep into her mouth, while, below, the hardened shaft of male flesh gouged hotly into the soft flesh of her belly. She was conscious of its burning heat even through the several layers of her clothing. She did not resist him. After all, if this was the ivay it was to be.. . .
Methodically, George was stripping her. She hadn't resisted him, she told herself, because she had suddenly realized the futility of struggle. She was his wife. She was his, to do with as he chose. God what a farce! What monstrous irony!
"This is the way I want it!" her husband crooned. "Let me get you ready for a fucking you will never forget!"
She recoiled, once more, at the vileness he breathed hotly into her tear-stained face, and she was but only dimly conscious of his eager, blunt fingers as they tugged at zippers and unfastened snaps, until the cool, mountain air flowed over her naked flesh, causing the nipples of her proud, full breasts to harden, the areolas puckering and tingling; then, she felt her panties being pulled down over the soft, rounded contours of her buttocks. She stepped out of the hobbling garment and kicked them aside.
He stepped back to gaze at her, admiringly, while Terri closed her eyes and stood with chin held high, desperately trying to control the tears that flooded her eyes. She swayed nearly losing her balance. God! There was nothing left to her but shame!
"Mother of Christ!" You are a truly luscious sight!" he gasped, the Italianate blasphemy ripping from him as he pulled her against his lustful nakedness, crushing her proud breasts flat against his broad, muscular chest, his broad, blunt hands cupping the full, rounded globes of her buttocks and hauling her naked loins tightly into him until his hardened, pulsating cock burrowed into the flaccid softness of her belly.
"You are all I thought you would be! Now, I am truly sorry that we did not shoot that scene in the nude. I was jealous of that leading man! God! How I wanted you . . . each time that you were in his arms! I wanted to throw you to the ground . . . and fuck you right there! Just throw those beautiful, long legs of yours over your head . . . arid fill you with this cock of mine!"
"Oh, God," she had moaned, almost incoherent, as she rested her face, tenderly, on his shoulder, unable to comprehend the keening eroticism his passionate yet obscene description engendered in her. She was allowed only a fleeting glimpse of this arousal. Suddenly, he had caught her hair, jerked her head back and his questing mouth found hers. His tongue burst into her mouth while a clawed hand clutched and kneaded her left breast without mercy. The pinching and twisting of the distended nipple quenched the fleeting sexual thirst of the moment before. Now, there was only pain.
She whimpered against his lips from the brutal manhandling of her soft, sensitive breast, her eyes flooding with the tears of her shame and humiliation . . . and there was the deception of this man who was now her husband . . . he, who had been so gentle and gentlemanly and who now was acting so beastly . . . almost animalistic in his approach to her. Her romantic ideas of married love had already been shattered. Then, there was the dread, the very present fear in her of that moment-not very far off now-when he would try to penetrate her virginal passage with that monstrous lance of hardened flesh, that lay hard-pressed against the flesh of her abdomen.
Oh, my God! What had she done to herself? What had she gotten into? What was she to do? There was nowhere to turn! No one to whom she could turn? There was nothing! Nothing!
. . . And, then, suddenly, he was leading her to the bed! Her husband was taking her to her marriage bed . . . and she didn't want to go!
All she could visualize, now, was the pain that would be hers in a few moments. Incoherently, she began to beg, "Oh, please, G-George . . . please, be gentle, promise me you'll be gentle . . . a-and not.. . h-hurt m-me.. . . "
Even as she pleaded, she knew that her words fell on deaf ears. George moved her around and pressed her down onto the bed before him, his lewd smile of anticipation etched into her memory as she closed her eyes and tried once more, "I've never . . . been . . . My God! D-Don't you understand? I'm really a-a . . . virgin, George!"
He was on all fours on the bed above her. He grinned down at her, drunkenly, lustfully, one knee working itself between her instinctively clasped thighs.
"That makes me very happy," he slurred. "Every man should have a virgin bride! Some places I know about . . . there has to be a bloody sheet to show the people . . . or the bride loses her head!" He made a motion with his hand across her neck to illustrate his point. Terri shuddered, the image in her mind almost too real for her.
"It's time for me . . . to find out if I have been so lucky as to have chosen a virgin bride," he went on: then, abruptly, "Open your legs!"
"Ooh, p-please, George . . . be gentle with m-me . . . " she breathed.
"Spread your legs! Wide!" he snarled. There was nothing else that mattered to him except getting his hard cock into her tender, chaste flesh. It drove him almost obsessively.
Reluctantly, she had obeyed, opening her thighs only minutely, but enough for him to take instant advantage of this small chink in her armor. He lifted his other leg and squeezed it between the long, shapely columns, spreading her thighs cruelly with the superior strength of his own. Gaping down at her, he saw the pink, moistness of her cuntal slit, the inner, coral petals peeping out shyly. Suddenly, he reared back on his haunches to stare at the completely naked and exposed spectacle of her sparsely, golden-hair ringed vagina.
"Mama mia!" he gasped, reverting to his original language.
Almost paralyzed with fear, she watched as he reached to her, placing the palms of his hands flat against the inside of her soft, smooth thighs, his blunt thumbs resting on the pliable softness of the sparsely hair-lined lips of her cunt. Her breath caught in her throat, plastering her tongue to the roof of her mouth as with a deliberately slow and tantalizing movement, he drew the gently pulsing lips slowly apart, exposing the natural wetness of the secret coral flesh to his lustful gaze.
"God!" he exploded. "What perfection! I've not seen such a tiny cunt, before!"
"Y-You're so big, Darling.. . . Y-You'll be careful. . . ? Please don't.. . h-hurt me . . . "
Nothing came from him for answer; he only sucked in a deep breath and dropped suddenly down upon her, his strong, thick hands plundering greedily over the creamy softness of her lush bodily curves, squeezing the fullness of her succulent breasts with sadistic fury, his hungry mouth coming down to chew first at one involuntarily hardened nipple then the other, while she writhed in exquisite pain beneath him, fearful, apprehensive, defenseless.. . trapped!
"Oh . . . OOooh, my God . . . " she had moaned beneath his brutal attack. He held her immobile on the bed, imprisoning her there with the weight of his heavy body, her head flailing helplessly from side to side, desperately, while his hand reached down between them seeking his hardened cock. He found it and worked the blood-engorged head between the moist, tender lips of her vagina, working it up and down in the virginal slit briefly to part the soft, sparse pubic hair; then, he thrust forward, the bulbous head coming up tight against the cringing mouth of her reluctant cunt. The pressure of it was hard, cruel and painful.
Terror seized her in its awful grasp. She tried to scream and found her vocal cords paralyzed. The agonizing pressure had begun, and for one brief moment she had thought that she could stand it, but it became obvious to her quickly that the disparity of size would never allow a fit. He was too big for her untried passage. Again, a scream formed in her throat.
Cruelly, impatiently, he flexed his hips, moving them forward powerfully.
"OOOOOOooooooohhhhhhhh, Goddddddd! NOOOOooooooo!"
Her vision spun crazily. Her brain reeled, the keening, cutting edge of fear slicing her reason to ribbons. She heard his vile curses of frustration, then he pressed against her, again, using all his strength of back and legs, his buttocks flexing and straining, until suddenly the guardian hymenal gave way before the inexorable pressure. The tight, elastic ring of her vaginal entrance had popped open with an unexpected snapping sound, and the huge, rubbery head of his cock slipped moistly inside the vaulted passage with such a rush that she was left gasping for breath, the instant of her transformation almost lost to her as a blanket of semi-darkness descended on her. She was nearly unconscious, now.
In but an instant the pain brought her around. Her head flailed, insanely, and she tried to rake her talon-like nails across his face as she writhed and twisted beneath him with the strength of a madwoman in her attempt to escape the cruel and agonizing impalement of her young, unready cunt.
Helplessly, she squealed in animal pain and fear, much as a hunted doe that has been run to ground and run through by the hunter's lance as he caught her wrists in a powerful hand and pinned them back over her head to the bed; her legs kicked out in a frantic effort to find relief, but the movement only made her position the worse, affording him the chance to sink his massive cock deeper and mercilessly into the soft yielding flesh of her widely splayed cunt.
She screeched and wailed with the almost unbelievable pain. Her incoherent babbling fell on deaf ears as, brutally, he forced the hardened shaft of flesh ever further into her unwanting, virginal pussy, stretching and expanding the sensitive, moist walls until she was sure that she would be ruined, split right down the middle from the cruel outward pressure. Relentlessly, he bored into her, his obvious pleasure revealed in his uncontrolled breathing; then, she felt his naked stomach smack resoundingly against her own and his heavy dangling balls hung heavy between the naked, upturned cheeks of her tightly clenched ass. Oh, God!
Words swarmed in her brain. She tried to speak . . . to beg, to say anything . . . anything at all that would penetrate to him, but the unformed words stuck in her throat. He had whipped her breath away with the sudden, rapine entry, the searing pain of it seeming to encompass the whole of her widely spread loins, but the true seat of her pain, she knew, was in the tearing of flesh as the hard, rampant member, now entombed deeply in her quivering belly, had literally torn her vaginal entrance to shreds. The warm, damp walls of her pussy sheathed his massive cock, tightly, and she was certain that she felt the blood dripping down the open cleft of her buttocks to form a warm, wet pool beneath her, staining the coverlet a bright red.
Her husband had not stopped. He didn't give her even a moment to adjust to his sudden invasion of her young, untried genitals. like some wild, hungry animal, he simply began to fuck, plunging in and out of her with an abandon that left her gasping. This whole episode, she realized dimly was all for his own gratification. Half in shock and pain, half from shame and humiliation, as well as a full measure of heartbreak and disillusionment, she had gaped up helplessly into his lust-contorted face, attempting to fathom what lay behind that mask as he pumped his heavily loaded cock in and out of her with inhuman, almost unfeeling desperation.
Her eyes had blurred with tears, more from the mental anguish than from the pain, for slowly the pain had begun to subside. She finally knew that there would be nothing for her but the pain and torture, but for him his only goal was to spew his waiting load of white, hot male semen deep up inside her.
It was ever thus, she decided; it was the ages-old heritage of the female: To lie on her back and be dominated by the male . . . to be an object only of his lust . . . for his satisfaction. There has to be more . . . Oh God, hasn't there?
. . . And, he had dominated her! Again and again during that awful night, he had emptied his lust-filled loins into her, flooding her cunt with the hot, scalding liquid of his insatiate passion . . . but never once did he wait for her own need to be fulfilled. For her, it was a sleepless night of sexual horror.
Time, the healer of all things, allowed the pain to pass from her almost completely; it was then that moistly tingling her passage had flowered open to him, wanting him, wanting his cock deep in her to stir the very seat of her being to white heat; fiery tongues of ecstasy had begun to keen through her young, sensitive flesh, and for brief periods of time she had thought there would be some of the more she had expected.
Uncontrollably, her whole body had begun to react, twitching and writhing beneath him, and she had groaned up into his face with anticipation, shoving her tongue hungrily into his throat and mewling her need of him; her legs on either side of his plunging cock had jerked and quivered of their own volition as she waited for it to happen . . .for that something more to happen to her.
She had drawn back her knees tight against her throbbing breasts, flattening them cruelly to her chest, to present her naked loins, wide open to his plundering penis, and he had driven the massive cudgel deep up into her, far up into the hidden never-before-touched sanctuary of her womb, the bulbous head flicking past the neck of the cervix with every battering pile-drive into her as she sought the elusive pinnacle of passion, her body screaming for release.
She loved him! Oh, God, yes! She loved this man, her husband! She would always love him . . . no matter what he did to her! She knew it at that moment.. .for she felt it coming! Oh, God! It was coming to her . . . at last!
. . . And, at that moment she would have done anything for him . . . if only he would bring her to the heights with him. She had nearly begged him for it! Her body-mind screamed for sexual release; his cock had driven her desire almost to that point, for she felt only a hair's breadth away from the pinnacle she had been trying to reach for hours. Only split seconds away from that point in time where she would have been a completely fulfilled woman, he had, again, shot the warm, viscid juice of his loins into her belly and collapsed in complete exhaustion on top of her. In moments he was sound asleep, leaving her aroused, frustrated and wakeful. Her tears ran unnoticed down her cheeks to soak the bed beneath her head, while below the viscous fluids drained from her to run cold down the cleft of her buttocks to puddle on the bed beneath her aching hips.
Terri stirred in the now chill water of her bath. Such had been her wedding night, she mused sadly, and the other nights, since. Her mercurial husband had taught her many things, but not, she knew, the one thing that had saved her sanity.
That was her secret. George Marklin would never know, she vowed, as she rose from the tub, stepped into the shower and finished her bath. Yes, she mused, he would never know that he had never satisfied her, sexually, but she had found a way; her satisfaction was never farther away than her own hand!
* * *
Refreshed from her bath, Terri dried herself, languidly, enjoying the narcissistic sensations she could create in her own body. Then, she combed out her hair, applied light makeup and lay down on her bed, nude, to take an afternoon nap. She wanted to be ready for whatever transpired when her husband arrived home. Experience told her that it would be better to be rested. Her coming ordeal could be ugly . . . and it might last for a long time; additionally, she knew that it would end in the same way: Her husband would have his way, sexually, with her. This she knew for certain!
* * *
In his bedroom, below stairs, Peter Marklin, sat cross-legged in the middle of his mussed-up bed. Morosely, he considered the glowing ash of the roach he held carefully between thumb and forefinger, the burning end turned in toward the palm of his hand. He was just beginning to feel the effects of the marijuana . . . the sensation of floating, not caring . . . of time standing still . . . of more acute awareness, the ability to think with an uncluttered mind. To a casual observer, he would look serene, zonked out, but inwardly, he seethed with half-formed images . . . images that involved his lovely young step-mother. She was a fantasy lover, the perfect woman, earth-mother and Aphrodite, all rolled into one package named Terri.
"Groovy!" he said, speaking only to himself. "Groovy.. . . " He shifted his focus to the hardening flesh he held tightly in his other hand, as he summoned up the vision of Terri, her nylon-clad legs climbing the stairs when she had come home that same afternoon. He had peeped at her from hiding. It was all he could do . . . then. God! How he had wanted to conjure up the courage to follow her to her room and fuck the shit out of her . . . force her, if necessary!
"Groovy, man! Groovy!" he said, again, to himself as his souped-up imagination led to the explicit details of what he would like to do to Terri Marklin, his step-mother, as his hand began to caress the hard, blood-engorged shaft of his cock.
The afternoon wore on, waned, and it was evening. He heard his father arrive . . . heard all that went on in the room above him, later that evening, and in the small hours of the morning, before he finally dropped off to sleep, he had formulated his plan, the plan that would get him everything he wanted . . . everything he had ever wanted in this world!
* * *
Below, out in the garden, another man thought about Terri. His fantasies were based on hopelessness, the unreality of a black man's hopes in regard to the golden-blonde loveliness of a white woman. Surreptitiously, he allowed his eyes to wander to the French windows where he had spied upon her that morning. He knew it would be too much of a risk to climb to that vantage point again, especially with young Marklin about the premises. He was pretty sure where the boy was in the house, but he couldn't take a chance that he would stay put.
Finally, overcome by a perverse and persistent longing to see her, again, he decided to scout out the situation, see whether such were possible. He had never tried the gambit in the afternoon; usually, as now, there were too many people around. Mid-morning, just after Terri arose, he had discovered was really the best time to indulge his voyeurism.
Walking casually around the large, old mansion, ostensibly, carrying out his duties as gardener, Jack Gordon, peered into windows, until he found what he was looking for; Peter Marklin in his own narcotic dream world, stoned on grass, bare-ass naked, sprawled in the middle of his bed, jacking off for all he was worth.
"Shit!" the black man said softly to himself. "The little honky bastard is zonked out on mary jane!"
He was certainly nothing to worry about, he decided. The kid sure as hell couldn't function in that condition!
Jack hadn't checked the Timex on his wrist, or he would have known his plan was ill-timed. With deliberate ease he moved around the house to the trellis, carrying his clippers carelessly. He had just begun to climb when he heard the high-powered whine of the engine and the crunch of tires on gravel as George Marklin entered the long drive from the street.
"Shit!" he spat, aloud, this time. "The honky boss-man's a-coming!"
Moving with deliberate slowness, he moved off around the house, heading for the greenhouse; there he put his tools away, locked up, got into his ancient pick-up truck and drove home . . . home to Watts, a couple of beers and an evening of honky television on his beat-up black and white set.
As he headed off into traffic, he didn't feel particularly perturbed. Hell! There was always tomorrow! "Tomorrow," he told himself, "I'll get me another look at her! Man! That's some woman!"
* * *
George Marklin's thoughts were on Terri, also, as he had driven along the freeway toward home. He intended to make her into a very contrite young woman! Several times he had warned her about the mounting expenses for her clothing. It was not that he couldn't afford it; he could and many times over. Rather, it was a matter of principle. He spoke, and he expected to be obeyed, without question; therefore, since Terri had disobeyed, she must be brought to task, and he had to admit to himself, that he rather enjoyed his role as taskmaster. In the end, he would have his way with his wife, as always, and tonight, he had a particularly piquant notion as to how he would take her. Christ! It made him hot just thinking about it!
Of course, Marklin had never told his wife how much money he made. That was purely his own business . . . and it was developing into a good business. It was almost foolproof . . . and to think he was carrying it out right under their very noses!
* * *
Pauline Riggs sighed as she finished posting the day's accounts. She hated the chore, but it was one of the small disadvantages she endured as manager of the exclusive dress shop. The advantages, for her, far outweighed these small inconveniences, especially in view of the new arrangements she had just completed. On the surface, at least, it was a workable idea; after it had been thoroughly explained to her, she had been wholeheartedly involved, and now that the plan had been in operation for about three months, affording her ample opportunity to fully realize the potential involved, she was an enthusiastic operator.
The best part of the whole thing was that Pauline got first crack at them, the lovely, unsuspecting things falling into her trap so easily where she could pluck them for herself, almost at will. There were five of them, now . . . and the sixth, the most breathtakingly lovely of them all, was soon going to be hers. The only question in her mind was whether she could pull this one off so circumspectly that her husband would never suspect. Things could blow wide open if George Marklin ever found out that she had lesbian designs on his wife.
Terri Marklin had not called her; no matter, she hadn't really expected that she would. Her approach had been much too direct, but she hadn't wanted to let the chance escape her there in the restaurant lounge.
Sometimes, the indirect approach was better. She reached for the special engraved forms she had had prepared and addressed the envelope in her own somewhat bold handwriting.
CHAPTER 3
The afternoon mail, the following day, brought Terri an intriguing invitation: THE CONTINENTAL featured private showings and fittings, but of most interest to her was a line on the engraved card. It stated that personal accounts were available and were held in strictest confidence. What did it mean? Would she be able to open an account there in her own name without George ever finding out about it?
It had been true. Her husband had cut off all of her charge accounts. In place of these, he had opened a personal checking account for her, depositing an initial thousand dollars with a promise to her that if she could manage it wisely, he would deposit a thousand each month. This money was intended to take care of all her wants. The needs of the household were to be handled separately. Needless to say, Terri had been more than overjoyed when he had agreed to the arrangement. Now, this invitation from a shop-although, it was one she knew little about-seemed a godsend, especially if she could open her own account, pay it once a month from her own checking account. It would certainly simplify things for her; she had never had a head for figures, and keeping a checkbook straight had always been a big bore for her.
The following day, Terri drove across town to visit THE CONTINENTAL. It was just to look, she assured herself . . . perhaps to buy, only if she were satisfied that quality and style were up to her own tasteful standards. Surprisingly, she found all to her satisfaction, and she bought a chic suit at what she considered a fair price.
Then, there were the necessary arrangements to be made concerning payment. She was ushered into the office of the Manager. MRS. PAULINE RIGGS a small plate on the door stated. Terri walked in confidently, but felt almost like running from the sumptuous office when the woman who came toward her around the desk, smiling a genuine welcome, said, "Please, come in, Mrs. Marklin and welcome to THE CONTINENTAL.. . . "
Involuntarily, Terri drew back stifling a gasp, "No!"
"I didn't call . . . I-I threw the number away.. . " Terri breathed.
"I thought as much, but no matter . . . come, now . . . let us get down to business, the real reason you're here, isn't it?" Pauline placated, changing the subject.
"Yes . . . I-I was thinking about opening an account.. . . "
"Please, sit down, my dear . . . and let's let bygones be just that, bygones . . . shall we? I promise you that I'll not mix business . . . and pleasure." Her smile was disarming.
Terri sat down, shakily, not sure that she should remain, but the older woman soon had her confidence, swiftly making the arrangements for the open account in Terri's own name. Assured that there would be no further pursuit, Terri relaxed, finally accepting the woman's open friendliness at face value.
When Terri left, Pauline Riggs indulged herself in a silent mirth. It was now just a matter of time, and she, Pauline, was a very patient woman. She could wait!
* * *
Young Peter Marklin, on the day following, after being zonked out on pot, began to make a remarkable change in himself. Several months before, the senior Marklin had ordered him to leave; his rebellion against his father's autocratic ways had led him to the non-conformist community of long hair, love beads, sandals and dirty clothing, along with its attendant proclivity for drugs and open sex.
Now, he was, ostensibly, setting out to mend those broken fences and relationships. His overtures to his father had been successful. He had agreed-if he were to remain a part of the Marklin household-to get a reasonable haircut, shave his beard, dress with some degree of conformity . . . and try to do something constructive with his time. His father's suggestion: Enter the fall term at one of the nearby State Colleges. To all of this Peter had agreed with some show of contriteness. He was respectful to his father, polite to Terri . . . and miserable as he tried, manfully, to live the straight, uptight life. All of this he was willing to do; it was a price he had decided to pay in the interest of getting what he wanted. The compromise would last for only a little while. Patiently, he waited for his chance. It wouldn't be long in coming. This he knew for sure!
Meanwhile, he must work on gaining Terri's confidence. His guile, gift of conversational gambits and his apparent change worked like a charm, and soon he seemed to fit into the family slot his father had decreed for him.
Terri was pleased at his change. In a short while she began to accept him, to talk with him . . . and to feel a certain warmth and affection for him, and never once did he give her cause for alarm as he had on other occasions when he had made lewd proposals to her. There was a time, not long before, when she had considered telling the boy's father about his attitude and his actions toward her, but she had considered the possible consequences: Would her husband believe her or the boy . . . if there were a confrontation? Knowing her husband's jealous nature, the possibility that he might misinterpret the situation, think that she had led the boy on, provoking him to make the sexual overtures, she had decided against such a move.
Now, everything seemed to be stable. She hoped it would remain that way. She was happy as long as she could have what she had now: Clothing, a few good parties on their estate, invitations to other good parties at other equally posh estates, a few nightclubbing evenings each month, attendance at some of the more important premieres, her own car, her own checking account and a famous and well-known husband. What more could she want? Of course, had she stopped to consider carefully, she would have discovered the one important ingredient missing from her life. It was love! She had sex . . . more than could be handled, at times. Her husband's sexual appetites seemed to be almost boundless . . . but love? No! There was no real love in her marriage.
* * *
It came as a complete shock to Terri. She held the dunning bill in her hand as though it were a deadly rattlesnake. Included in the envelope was a short, courteous note signed by
Pauline. Dear Terri (it said), Please come in to see me personally about this, (signed) Pauline.
Heavens! The bill was for an amount exceeding fifteen hundred dollars! Had she overspent that much? Was there a possibility of a mistake in billing? It couldn't be . . . that much! How could she possibly pay it? Why, it amounted to more than a month and a half of her allowance!
The next day she found herself in Pauline's office-they were on a first-name basis at Pauline's insistence-sitting opposite the older woman, who was strangely calm about the whole matter.
"Actually, Terri," Pauline was saying, "you needn't worry too much about this . . . but I know you wouldn't want your husband to learn of it."
"Oh, Heavens, no!" Terri blurted.
"I thought as much . . . " the manager said, "but maybe there's a way out of this.. . . " She looked thoughtful. "Yes, I think so!"
Terri grasped at straws, as it were. She really had had no idea of how she could handle such a debt. It was totally beyond her. "What do you mean?" she asked eagerly.
"I need another model . . . and I think you just might be exactly right for the job!"
"Really?! "
"Yes . . . that way, you could work off this amount and you'd be free of any worry," Pauline offered.
With a huge sigh of relief, Terri, felt as though a mighty burden had been lifted from her shoulders. "OOOhhh! That's wonderful! You're so . . . so understanding . . . and kind!"
"Of course, there's the audition. . . . "
"Au-Audition . . . . ? "
"Naturally!" Pauline returned. "I'll have to make sure that you can do the job . . . properly."
"Y-Yes, I suppose you're right.. . " Terry conceded, then brightening, "what do you want me to do . . . for the audition?"
"Well, come along with me upstairs. I have some things up there you can show off for me."
Pauline rose, crossed to the opposite wall, pressed a half-concealed button and the paneling before them slid back to reveal a small elevator. Motioning Terri to enter, the older woman followed her into the small cubicle, closed the door, pressed the up button and they were whisked to the second floor where they entered into a lavishly furnished apartment. Terri glanced around with appreciation, noting the expensive decor.
"How beautiful! I just love it!" Terri gushed.
"I had it fixed up for when I have to stay over late," Pauline said by way of explanation.
"Oh, then you don't live here . . . ? "
"Hardly, my dear, I have my own home over in Brentwood."
"Oh.. . . " Terri was impressed.
Pauline opened a capacious closet and selected a cocktail dress, a simple sheath. "This should do, nicely."
Terri took the dress from her and glanced around questioningly as she held the dress up to her.
"You can change in there." Pauline indicated a closed bedroom door.
For the next half-hour, Pauline put Terri through the paces, explaining patiently to her what she wanted from her models. Terri learned fast, mimicking the older woman's examples to the letter. Her experience in beauty contests and later in movie work stood her in good stead, and Terri, of course, was an apt pupil, especially when it came to wearing good clothing well.
Everything had been on a purely business-like basis, but suddenly, this mood was shattered. Terri had changed into three different outfits; she now wore a fluffy nothing of a mini-dress. Each time, she had changed in the privacy of the ultra-feminine bedroom, but now, she was startled by Pauline's imperious command, "You can take it off, now, my dear! Take it all off!"
"I-I don't understand . . . Wha-What do you m-mean?"
"You'll be modeling some swimsuits . . . I want to see your figure . . . " Pauline said.
"Oh.. . . "
The flush that had begun on Terri's face receded. "Of course . . . Pauline . . . do you have a swimsuit for me to put on?"
Silently, Pauline handed her one of the new peek-a-boo models. Terri took it from her and went back into the bedroom. She had just removed the last of her underclothing, slipping her wispy nylon panties down over the swell of her smooth white thighs when Pauline entered quietly, standing at the half-opened door staring in frank appraisal at the vision of female loveliness before her.
"Perfect, my dear . . . just perfect!"
In embarrassed confusion, Terri reached for a garment on the bed to shield her nakedness, turning involuntarily and shrinking into herself. She emitted an audible gasp of surprise.
"There's no need for the coy, little-girl act, Terri.. . after all, I'm a woman, too.. . . "
"Y-You startled m-me!" She could feel the warm blush of her face and neck as she experienced a strange feeling of being devoured alive by the older woman's eyes. She shuddered delicately.
Then, the dress was removed from her hands and she was swung about to face the dress shop manager. The woman's eyes burned hotly into her own.
"You're absolutely ravishing," Pauline breathed, her tongue coming through her lips to move in a slow circular motion of sensuous caress.
Instinctively, Terri drew back, using arms and hands to retain her innate modesty, to shield herself, even from another woman's gaze. "P-Please . . . Pauline . . . I'd like to get dressed, now . . . if we're through with the audition.. . . "
"The audition is finished.. . . You'll be good as a model!" Pauline affirmed. "But, I'm not finished with you!"
"What do y-you w-want.. . with me . . . ? "
"You! Your body . . . your love!"
"I-I could never d-do that!"
"You could never do what, my dear.. . ? Make love with a woman?"
Terri turned her head, trying desperately to break the almost hypnotic eye contact with the older woman. "Y-Yes. . . " she whispered. "I'm married . . . and my husband. . . . "
"Husbands! Men!" Pauline hissed. "What do they know about love? What do they know about what really turns a woman on?"
"I-I just. . . c-couldn't.. . . "
"How do you know, my dear? How will you ever know what real ecstasy is . . . until you've tried it.. . in the arms of a real woman lover . . . a woman who knows all about you, because she's a woman herself?" Pauline reached out and placed a gentle, soft hand on Terri's breast, allowing her fingers to teasingly trace the swelling contour of the luscious alabaster globe.
Unaccountably, Terri felt a sudden, surging warmth begin to pervade her body seeming to have its epicenter in her abdomen, its tingling sensations singing a prelude to forbidden pleasures, but her brain, the seat of reason, censored the lubricious, sexually oriented signals, telling her: No! Get away! There is danger here!
She swept the tantalizing hand away. "No! It's getting late! I-I must go home . . . m-my hus . . . "
"Screw your husband!" Pauline spat, her lips twisted with obvious hate.
Terri had never heard a woman use such an obscenity before. The shock of it sliced through her. She flushed even more crimson. Her lower jaw dropped. Her eyes widened.
Seeing her reaction, Pauline pursued, "I was married at one time . . . just as you are, now . . . and I see myself, all over again, in you! . . . And what does the beast do for you ? I can guess! He climbs on top of you, stuffs his hard cock up between your legs whether you're ready or not . . . not even caring that you might not want it . . . then, he fucks away, shooting his cum into you, leaving you to worry about the possibility of pregnancy . . . and then the son-of-a-bitch goes to sleep . . . and you lay there not having gotten anything out of it but an aching cunt . . . a cunt that needed love . . . loving . . . not just plain, animal fucking!"
Shocked truth stared Terri in the face. Oh, God! How did Pauline know all of this? It was almost as though the woman were clairvoyant . . . or had stood, a silent observer at her bedside! The truth was too sharp pointed. It hurt!
Shakily, her knees relaxed, her legs could no longer support her weight, and she sat down, suddenly, heavily, on the bed, a wailing sob of despair wracking her body as quick, hot tears trickled down her cheeks. Soft, female arms were around her, and Pauline's voice came to her through the pounding in her head.
"It's all right, baby . . . it's all right . . . it'll be good for you.. . . Cry it all away.. . " the older woman crooned holding the girl in her arms and rocking back and forth.
Terri turned away, crawling off to be alone, curling herself into a fetal ball in the middle of the huge bed, her head cradled in her arms, as the huge sobs born of frustration, heartbreak and shame tore through her lush body.
Pauline hesitated but a moment. She knew that now was the time, the time to offer the heartbroken girl the something else that only she could provide at that moment. She smiled sardonically to herself. It had been easier even than she had anticipated. The poor girl had been more ready, more receptive than any she had seduced before. God! She was hot! It had been all she could do to control herself, allow herself to talk when she had wanted direct action . . . but words-she told herself-had paid off . . . again. Without undue haste, she began to remove her own clothing, standing at last to remove the black panties over the svelte contours of her hips and thighs.
Her hands roamed over her own body, assuring herself of her own desirability, a hand, at last, coming to the softly curling hair of her pubic triangle, a finger slipping into the coral pinkness of her womanhood to feel the spiky hardness of her somewhat larger than normal clitoris. She shuddered delicately with the slashing, wildfire sensations being generated there.
"Oh, lovely . . . " she breathed to herself as her nerve-ends sang, zinging for joy, the anticipation of coming pleasures almost more than she could bear. Again, she whispered to herself, making an unconscious alliteration, "Oh, the lovely loveliness of lesbian love!" At that moment, she considered herself to be a very happy woman, a woman in love with love . . . and another woman.
At first, Terri couldn't believe what was happening to her. She was aware that Pauline was on the bed with her, next to her; then, she felt the cool hands on her, running down her back to the waist and down over her hips and buttocks, repeatedly, soothing her. The extreme gentleness felt so good, so restful . . . so tingly and nice. Now, she felt the electric contact as the older woman curled her body tight against her, the small, pointed breasts pressing against her back, the smooth belly in close contact, all the way down to where a soft tickling mound pressed in against the cheeks of her buttocks and a well-manicured hand worked its way over her rib cage until it clasped a breast with gentle knowledge, the fingers working at the nipple causing it to quiver out hard and sensate. Terri lay still, her sobbing decreasing, until finally it stopped and she was fully aware of what was happening to her. Perhaps not fully aware, but conscious that what was happening was good-that is, it made her body feel good-but her mind was stepping in, again, with its reason, reasoning with her on a rational basis. Don't! This is wrong! Wrong! Don't do it!
Her cry was muffled, strangled in her throat, "N-No . . . please . . . don't! I-I can't . . . I just c-can't do it!"
"Hush, darling," Pauline husked in her ear, "let me show you how."
The older, more experienced woman, turned the girl to face her, clamping her slender body to Terri's, the small, sharply pointed breasts mashed in tight to the younger girl's more generous mounds, her mouth seeking and finding the tear-salted and lipstick smeared lips, pressing them in a passionate kiss, her tongue working out, slowly, gradually, to run in sensuous circles, rimming her lips with sensation producing lubricity; meanwhile, her hands busily tantalized her body, swarming over the luscious contours like a swarm of hungry insects, transmitting her own great need, the while setting up uncontrollable fires that began to leap and dance in the blonde, hair-covered loins of the love-starved young love goddess of the silver screen.
. . . And, Terri began to respond. Unaccountably, to herself, she began to feel a certain thrill of her own generated by the femaleness of the other woman's body. Tentatively, she put forth a timid hand to feel the smooth, velvet flesh of the other's smaller but equally shapely breast. She felt a shudder pass through Pauline's body, and she realized that she had been the cause of it. The other's sigh of pleasure confirmed it.
Their mouths were welded together, now, tongues moving in and out, hungrily, hands busy on each other's bodies; Pauline with sure knowledge, Terri experimenting, exploring here and there, and the fires in their loins raged higher and higher. Now, Terri moaned with a desire she could not control. It was a moan of helplessness, of utter despair, and she tried once again to fight against it. She broke the moist contact of their lips, muttering across the short, intervening space.
"I've . . . I've never been . . . untrue to-to my h-husband. . . . "
"What's that.. . ? Untrue to your husband . . . ? He's a man! Do you think he's thinking the same thing when he climbs between another woman's legs.. . . And, you don't think, even for an instant that he hasn't been doing just that.. . do you?"
Terri could not be sure. On reflection, she realized, she knew very little of what her husband did. "I-I don't know.. . . "
"Anyway," Pauline went on, "it's not the same . . . it's not as if you were being fucked by another man!"
"But. . . the principle.. . . "
"Fuck principle!" Pauline shot out. "This is female to female love! There's a difference!"
Almost savagely, then, the older woman recaptured Terri's mouth, her upper leg moving between the white, tapering thighs, spreading them, moving her own loins in until the two soft pubic triangles met and mingled, the dark one grinding in against the blonde with excited abandon.
Reaching over, Pauline pulled the rounded fullness of Terri's smooth, white buttocks in tight, then moving down the soft yielding crevice, in the moist, coral, blonde hair-ringed vaginal opening, she slipped a finger in, moistening it with the moist secretions from the smooth wet walls. The finger moved on to find the clitoris. It was hard, throbbing . . . sensate, and Pauline stroked it, ever so gently, stoking the furnace of Terri's passion to white-hot heat.
Then Terri felt her woman lover move, slithering down her body, rolling her gently to her back, her mouth busy as she kissed her breasts, then sucked them, moving the nipples in and out of her mouth, quickly, as she maintained a constant sucking pressure. The forbidden sensations raced through the younger woman, flashing through her nerve ends with lightning speed to stab into her genitals with merciless insistence. Uncontrollably, her hips began to grind down into the bed in steady rhythm, and she knew that she was lost.
"Oh, God!" she moaned, helplessly.
Now, she felt the hungrily teasing lips moving down, down over her ribs, her belly, the agile tongue swirling into her navel . . . and then her thighs were spread by warm female hands, exposing her cunt to the other woman's gaze. She was aware that Pauline had placed herself between her legs and that hands moved on the smooth, softly velvet skin of her inner thighs, and those same hands caressed and tantalized at the same time as they worked in that secret place.
The mouth kissing her thighs, her hips, her abdomen and then the soft inner flesh of her thighs, working up to the "V" of her open legs where her pulsating cunt thirsted, drove Terri wild with the tantalizing anticipation. Just before the mouth descended down between her limply spread thighs, she had a disquieting thought: Somehow, she knew in that instant, she would be changed, transformed . . . that the act she wanted, even though she knew in her rational mind that it was wrong, would be a turning point in her life. Would she become the kind of woman Pauline was? Lesbianism was supposed to be shameful, degrading . . . dirty!
It was there! That probing, licking, lovely and tantalizing tongue was there . . . on her clitoris, sending the most wonderful sensations to her brain, and Terri knew that there was never in this world-or the next, for that matter-a more rhapsodic ecstasy, but her puritan mind interfered, again. She cried out, "No! NOOOooo! Oh, God! No!"
The mouth paused for an instant; words came to her. She heard, but did not hear. Her senses reeled. It was P a u I i n e's voice that spoke, "Relax, baby doll . . . and enjoy it!"
"Oh, God! It's wrong! Wrong!" Terri screamed.
"But you like it, don't you?" Pauline countered and dropped her mouth to the coralline flesh of the involuntarily pulsing cunt, her tongue probing, this time, into the liquid depths of her fiery pussy, moving in and out to the rhythm already set by Terri's grinding hips. The flicking tongue fucked in and out with the measured regularity, almost, of a man's cock. Terri could stand it no longer. Oh, God! She had to have that tongue inside her! She must have it! If she didn't get it, she would go mad!
Throwing all reason to the winds, conscious only of the crashing heat lightning that grounded in her naked, now, upturned loins, Terri cried out in anguish of unfulfilled sex.
"Oh, God! Yesss! Give it to me! L-Let me cum!"
The mouth paused. "What do you want, baby? You want me to keep this up . . . until you cum?" Pauline queried.
"Yes! OOooh, yes!"
"I've got a better idea, honey . . . let's cum together!"
"H-How?" Terri was desperate.
"Have you ever kissed another woman between the legs before?"
"No . . . n-never!"
"Now's the time to learn! You just do to me what I've been doing to you! That's what real love is all about!"
Swiftly, expertly, then, Pauline shifted her position; she straddled Terri's face, her head, naturally, in a female sixty-nine position over the younger woman's loins.
Terri looked up, startled, into the moist, coral slit of Pauline Riggs where it hung teasingly only inches over her face, the brown, slightly puckered ring of the tiny anus winking down at her, and she knew what it was she must do. They were in the sixty-nine position she had heard about, the position of mutual, oral-genital sex. Never in her life, would Terri have believed that she would ever find-herself in that position. Oh, God . . . how had she gotten into this?
With a swivel-hipped wriggle, Pauline's vibrant pussy came down against Terri's face, as at the same time, her head moved again to the pulsating, ready cunt, below. Terri's first impulse was to scream; she felt suffocated . . . trapped, but the contact of the older woman's tongue with the quivering bud of her clitoris, eliciting a long moan of sexual surrender from deep in her chest, caused her to nuzzle her face up into the warm coral furrow above her, her tongue probing out experimentally to find the miniature phallus in its canopy of darkly hair-ringed flesh.
Much to her surprise, the slightly pungent flavor of the female vagina on her tongue was not completely distasteful. Now, she became a little more bold and dexterous as she licked and sucked, stopping occasionally to flick her wet, pink tongue into the vaginal opening; finally, establishing a rhythmic movement matched to the older woman's licking of her own cunt.
Together, they began to mount higher and higher toward the heights of orgasmic release, as tongues slashed and licked, hands grasped and caressed, hips ground and mouths gasped out little mewls and groans of mutual joy.
Terri found herself mouthing words into the wetness between the legs over her lips. "OOooh! It's so good! Don't stop! Don't ever stop! Oh, Pauline . . . lick me good!"
Dimly, she heard the muffled counterpoint. "Eat me, darling! Eat me! OOOOoooh! Eat my cunt!"
Thus, intertwined, mutually giving and receiving, the two women came to the apogee of sexual climax. Terri felt it begin in the long, shuddering convulsions of her body, the long-awaited release causing her body to jerk spasmodically as wave after breaking wave of welcome release spread through her body-mind, a symphonic rhapsody of sensations seeping over her, leaving her satiated and relaxed. She did not recognize that it was her own voice screaming, " AAAAaaaaagggh! Oh, Goddddd! I'm cuuummmmmmiiiinnnnng!" While, above her Pauline ground her hips and cunt down into the girl's face with wild abandon, her voice coming to her as from a distance, announcing the arrival of her ecstatic moment. "Oh! Oh! OOOooooh! It's almost here! AAAaaaaagggggggh!"
Pauline collapsed, rolling from the topmost position to stretch out beside Terri, clasping her desperately to her and clamping her mouth to Terri's in a long drawn-out passionate kiss as the last of the tiny convulsive waves of orgasm was drained from them.
"Oh, God! That was lovely . . . lovely!" Pauline gasped.
Terri could only moan in half-conscious agreement.
Then, the older woman's voice, emotion laden, came to her, "I love you, Terri! Oh, God! How I love you!"
Terri didn't know how to answer; she loved her husband. How could she respond? How tell another woman she loved her? Was this love she felt? Terri didn't know . . . couldn't know. Mutely, she offered her lips to this strange woman, again, clasping, clinging . . . confused . . . but sexually satiated.
Her ideas of sexual satisfaction, as it turned out were as nothing compared to the greed-that was the only word for it, she decided-of her lover, Pauline. After a very few moments, her employer had risen from the bed, delved into a drawer and returned with a vibrator which she plugged into an outlet, the device itself, she strapped to the back of her hand. Smiling down at Terri, she said, ". . . and now, my dear, I'm going to give you a massage."
"MMmmmmn, that'll be nice.. . " Terri murmured.
"Nicer than you think!"
It was nice! It was not until the vibrating hand began to work over her abdomen that she began to have an inkling of how the vibrator worked . . . of the effect it would have on her. Then, it was on her naked cunt, the vibrations transmitting swift sensations of pleasure as Pauline expertly manipulated her hardened clitoris.
"Oh, my God!" Terri moaned as she came to another soaring climax within moments, and she felt herself completely helpless to stop the action . . . or her reaction.
Now Pauline showed Terri another device. It was a replica of a man's cock, a huge plastic phallus, somewhat longer and thicker than her husband, George's fleshy member.
Terri gasped, "It's so huge . . . a-and mean looking!"
"I can assure you, darling," Pauline smiled, "that it will give you more pleasure than any mere man's cock will!"
She noticed the electric power cord attached to it. "D-Does that th-thing have a vibrator in it . . .too?"
"Yes, it does, darling. This is my favorite dildo . . . it's imported . . . and quite expensive. . . . "
"Y-You called it a d-dildo . . . ? "
"That's the proper term . . . but come, let's trade . . . you take the hand vibrator, and I'll use this one on you . . . you'll soon see why it's my favorite," Pauline urged.
Depravedly, Terri did as she was bidden. She could never have explained it to herself, but for the first time in her life she had tasted, experienced . . . become a sexual woman, a woman who knew that she could come to orgasm easily and often.
It was only after utter exhaustion had forbidden further activity that they stopped, by mutual consent. Terri dressed, repaired her makeup and hair and drove directly home. She had no idea how many times she had come to orgasm. Was it thirty? Forty? She had lost count as the time passed . . . as she floated-it seemed-from one rhapsodic orgasm to another . . . and yet another, even more exquisite, more beautiful. Now, all she wanted was a bath . . . and heavenly sleep, a sleep that she knew would be dreamless and restful.
* * *
Time had flown. It was after five in the afternoon when she parked her car in the garage and walked languidly into the house, heading directly for the stairs. Her foot was on the second tread when the telephone rang. She was about to ignore the imperious ringing, but decided against it. It might be George. They were to dine out this evening . . . perhaps she would have to meet him, if he had been delayed, at the studio.
She picked up the telephone. It barked at her, "Where in hell have you been?" It was George. "I've been trying to raise you for over twenty minutes!"
"Sorry, darling.. . " she said, perturbed because of his apparent anger. "I was out . . . and j-just came in. . . . "
"I know! I tried earlier, also!" he gruffed.
Again, she murmured, "Sorry.. . . "
"I'm at the airport.. . L.A. International. My flight will be leaving in ten minutes. I decided to call you to let you know. I'll return on Monday, in the afternoon.. . . "
Her heart soared. She wouldn't have George around the house for the weekend. Almost three whole days without him! The perverse thought startled her. Why should she be glad that her husband would be gone from her? With her newfound knowledge of herself, she knew that now she would be able to respond to him . . . be a real wife . . . a loving wife . . . even a sexy one!
"I'm sorry you have to leave . . . on s-such short notice . . . " she lied. Then, woman-like, "Do you have everything you need . . . ? Handkerchiefs? Socks . . . ? "
"Yes!" he answered, irritated by the mothering. "You know I keep a packed bag at the studio . . . for this kind of emergency!"
"Where . . . ? "
"On location . . . there's some difficulty . . . a picture they're shooting in Colorado. The director has walked out. They want me to look at it, perhaps take over the rest of the picture. I hear them calling my flight, darling. I must go.. . . " The line went dead as he hung up, hurriedly.
"Have a good trip . . . " she said, absently, into the dead phone, her mind working, trying to decide what she would do with her time. Pauline had told her she would not have to come in to begin her modeling job until Monday. It was now late afternoon of Friday. Wonderful! It was just wonderful!
Close behind her, Peter Marklin's voice was loud in her ear, "What gives . . . the old man off on a trip, or something?"
She turned, startled, "Y-Yes . . . he just called. He's off to Colorado, he said.. . . "
"Groovy!" the teen-ager remarked to no one in particular. "Groovy!" he repeated.
Terri agreed. Yes! Groovy! She said it to herself. With a light heart she mounted the stairs to her room, heading for that refreshing bath and a beautiful nap before dinner.
She undressed, feeling the exquisite tiredness engendered by the multiple orgasms. The memory of the scene in Pauline's bedroom, fresh with new knowledge of self, loaded with implications of more to come, caused her to feel a flush of rising desire. Putting on a thin wrapper, she strolled to the French windows that looked out on the large expanse of front lawn and garden. There, below, on his knees, Jack Gordon labored to remove the stubborn stump of a small tree that Marklin had ordered him to destroy, then to replace it with a more attractive evergreen, a Japanese black pine.
The play of sunlight on the sweat-glistened black skin, the supple muscles rippling as he worked held her attention. There was a certain beauty, an animalistic magnetism in the flowing movements of the man . . . almost, she thought, there was an aura of animal masculinity, of a sexuality exuding from him, a sexuality that she knew would be at the same time savage and sublime. She didn't know how it was she knew it, but it was there in her mind, the knowledge waiting to be tapped.
Turning away, she went into the bathroom to draw her bath. She had heard somewhere that black men were wild, animal-like lovers. The thought crackled through her mind, and as quickly she rejected it. She just couldn't imagine herself in the arms of a black man! It was absurd! A horrible thought . . . but she, of course, had never dreamed that she would ever find herself in the arms of another woman either!
What was that gardener's name? Gordon? Jack Gordon, she remembered. She had not paid much attention to him, before. He was just there. He had been, merely, an adjunct of the estate. Suddenly, he had become visible to her. He was a man! He was a beautiful, sexy, black man. She blushed. She had better banish such thoughts from her mind. It was just impossible! Ugh! How could any self-respecting white woman take a black man for a lover? That sort of thing was for someone else . . . but not for Terri Marklin. Anyway, she had no intention of being unfaithful to George; at least, she told herself, it would never be with a man. Somehow, in her own mind, it was different with Pauline. What they had done together that afternoon had been . . . well, a sort of mutual masturbation. It was not the same as if she had laid on her back with her legs spread taking another man's cock in her cunt. That would have been marital infidelity of the most flagrant sort. She would never do that! George's jealous nature . . . and his threat to her was enough to give her pause.
* * *
Jack Gordon had gotten a fleeting glimpse of Terri as she turned away from the window. He had noted her late arrival and wondered about it; of course, it was really none of his business. There was something about her serene countenance that attracted his attention. It was the face of a sexually satisfied woman. He was sure that's what it was!
"Shit!" he had muttered to himself. "She's gone and got herself laid . . . sure as hell!"
And it couldn't have been her husband. Of that he was sure, also. There was a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind. Maybe, if she's playing around . . . getting it somewhere in the middle of the day, he reasoned . . . maybe . . . just maybe. . . . The thought was half formed.
"Hell! How does a black man get a white woman, like her, into a bed . . . unless she's dragged there? There's no way, man! No way!"
His silent soliloquy was interrupted by Peter Marklin who walked up to where he was working.
"Gordon," he said, "my father just called from the airport.. . . He's going to be out of town for the weekend. He left a message . . . said for you to take tomorrow off!"
Jack was confused. "Your dad said for me to grub out this stump.. . . "
"like forget it! It'll still be there Monday!"
"Is that going to be a day off with pay . . . " Jack asked, worriedly.
"Sure! Why not?"
"All right, then . . . I'll wait 'til Monday to finish," the black man assured him.
"Groovy!" young Marklin told him. "Groovy!" He turned and sauntered back into the house with careless ease.
The tall black man watched him go, wiped the sweat from his glistening forehead and said under his breath. "Little bastard! Trying to be the big boss while his old man's gone! Honky son-of-a bitch!"
Inside the big house, another such scene was enacted; this time with the part-time housekeeper, a large, raw-boned woman of Scandinavian extraction and indeterminate age.
"Yah . . . O.K." she told Peter. "I don't come in on Saturday, anyway.. . . "
"Hey, that's groovy, too!" Peter said. "Everything's just groovy! like real groovy!"
A confused Greta watched him go. "Young people!" she groused. "Who can understand them, these days?"
Peter Marklin went into his own room. He had a few more preparations to make. God! This was it! Now was the time! He couldn't waste any of it! A whole weekend alone in the house with his young stepmother! Groovy!
CHAPTER 4
Waking from her nap, Terri felt completely refreshed and rejuvenated, her whole body singing of good health and well-being. She felt wonderful, wonderful and happy as she stretched, luxuriously on the huge bed.
She was hungry. That morning she had had only a bite of breakfast; she couldn't eat for worry about the debt to THE CONTINENTAL; then, lunch had been skipped because there had been no time to eat while she had been with Pauline. Again, the memory brought a rosy flush to her cheeks. Was it possible that it all had happened? Her hand crept down, searched in the soft female furrow there and assured herself that the slight irritation she found had, most certainly, been caused by that monstrous, vibrating dildo in the hands of Pauline Riggs. God! She felt as though she had been stretched almost beyond endurance.
Dining out was out of the question, tonight, she decided, since her husband was out of town. She wondered if he had canceled reservations, deciding, finally, that if he had made dinner reservations, he surely would have canceled as soon as he knew he would be leaving town. She put it out of her mind. Never mind, perhaps there were some left-overs in the kitchen. She knew that frugal Greta was always putting away little bits of this and that. At least, she would not go hungry; if necessary, she would send out for something prosaic such as pizza. That was an idea. She felt like she could eat a whole pizza, by herself.
Soon, Terri was dressed comfortably and went downstairs. She found Peter in the living room in front of the color television set. He had purposely placed himself there so that he would be sure to see her when she came downstairs. Glancing up, he smiled at her with his ever-present, "Groovy!"
"Are you hungry, Peter," she asked. "I was just thinking about a big pizza!"
"Groovy, man!" he agreed. "With beer!"
"Make mine coffee!"
"I'd even consent to go out and get it. . . . " This from him, amiably.
"No need to . . . we can have it delivered. I'll perk up some coffee in the kitchen."
"Then, I'll check on the beer!" he said.
Terri ordered, prepared the coffee, and they ate, ravenously when their pizza arrived sizzling hot. Their conversation was light, relaxed, and Terri found herself enjoying the company of her step-son. It seemed that some of the barriers had been bridged.
Peter leaned back, satisfied, finally, "Groovy!" he said. "I'd dig some of that coffee, now.. . . "
"All right.. . . " Terri was on her feet heading for the kitchen, carrying a clean cup for his use. "Cream or sugar?"
"Black."
It was time. Quickly, he broke the hidden capsule into her cup, stirring the crystals as they dissolved in the amber coffee. He sat back, again, heaving an inward sigh. It was done! Now, it was just a matter of time; time for the drug to take effect, and he, Peter, would be in control . . . complete control!
* * *
Later, exactly how much later, she didn't know, Terri awoke with a splitting headache. She remembered. She had become terribly sleepy, had actually gone to sleep; she couldn't keep her eyes open. It was horrible. She had sprawled across the dining room table. Drugged? Had she been drugged? Who? Peter was there! Peter! Could it have been Peter? Why? She was confused, her mind not yet working clearly. This is crazy! You only see these things in bad, grade B movie thrillers . . . or read about them in detective novels. It doesn't happen to people . . . in their own homes. Or does it?
Without opening her eyes, yet, she was aware that she was on her own bed. She was nude, and her wrists were secured by some kind of restraint, her arms stretched out over her head.
She opened her eyes, focused them on the face leering down at her. Peter! Her instinctive, involuntary scream was stifled even before it was formed in her throat. A hand was clamped, cruelly, over her half-opened mouth.
"Don't scream!" Peter hissed. "If you do . . . I'll have to put a gag on you! It's up to you!"
Terri struggled for a moment, found it useless and subsided back into the pillow. She didn't want to be gagged. Maybe . . . maybe, if she could talk . . . she might be able to reason with him. She relaxed. Yes, that was it. She would talk to him, find out what he intended to do with her . . . to her, and, perhaps, try to talk him out of it. The terrifying thought had crossed her mind that. . . that he was going to rape her. Rape?! Oh, God! Not that! Not Peter! Peter?
Peter's voice, "Do you promise not to scream?"
She moved her head up and down in positive affirmation. He took his hand away from her mouth. She expelled a great breath. "Peter!? "
"Yes, Peter! your own stepson!" he sneered.
"like they say in those old melodramas: 'Ah, hah, now I have you in my power!" He rubbed his hands mimicking the villain and made a sneering grimace. "Peter! Be serious!"
"I am serious!" he barked. "I've never been more serious in my life!"
"Stop playing games . . . a-and I-let me go."
"Not yet!"
"W-What do you want.. . . "
"You!"
"What d-do you m-mean?" she wailed.
"Just that! I want you all to myself! I'm going to fuck you . . . fuck you like you've never been fucked before!"
"That's r-rape!"
"Smart!"
"You'll be caught . . . a-and punished! You'll be put in jail."
"Maybe!"
"It's insane! S-Stop it right now . . . and I'll forget about wh-what you've done . . . not tell your father or the p-police . . . " she bargained.
"No way!" he snapped. "I've already gone this far . . . now, I go for broke . . . all or none!"
Tears started into her eyes. Her position seemed to be absolutely hopeless. She glanced at her right wrist. There was a leather cufflet on it with a stout rope attached. The rope was tied securely to the bedpost. The other wrist was-likewise imprisoned. "OOooh, my God! My Goddddd!" she moaned.
"He won't be able to help you, either!" Peter grunted.
"P-Please . . . I beg you.. . . "
"There's already too much talking, baby! Now, it's time to groove! like, you know, Groovy! Man!"
Her stepson was still fully clothed, but now, he began to undress himself. Casually, he removed his shirt, undershirt, trousers, shoes, socks and, finally, his undershorts. She saw that his penis was at a half-mast erection.
His eyes had been upon her all the while he was undressing, watching her, measuring her reaction. His hand dropped down to the staff between his legs, grasped it and shot the foreskin back. Instantly, the member began to swell in his hand, expanding and throbbing almost as though it had been blown up like a balloon.
Terri's eyes widened. She tried to look away, but his voice commanded her, "Look here, baby! This's all for you!"
"I-I'll never . . . I-let you do it t-to m-me!"
His uproarious laughter filled the bedroom. Between fits of sniggering glee, he told her, "You don't have much choice!" Then, getting himself under control, he went on, ". . . But, just to make sure, I've got a little something for you!"
Producing a paper shopping bag from the floor where he had placed it earlier, he delved into it showing her a small tightly capped bottle. He smiled, "I've been planning this for a long time . . . just waiting for the time when my old man was going to be gone for a long weekend. Man, this's going to be groovy! You know what's in this bottle?"
Terri shook her head. "No . . . " she squeaked weakly.
"It's an aphrodisiac called Dhattura . . . from India. There's this friend of mine who was studying pharmacy-until he dropped out from dropping too much acid. Anyway, he found this old formula and mixed it up.. . . He hooked the stuff to make it out of his old man's drugstore . . . same as he hooked the chloral hydrate. . . . "
"D-Dhattura . . . Chloral h-hydrate . . . ? "
The words were strange to her.
"Yeah, you know . . . the stuff I gave you to knock you out!"
Suddenly, at least, one thing was clear to her. "I-In my coffee . . . ? "
"Yeah . . . " he affirmed. "And this stuff.. . " he held up the bottle, "will make that little pussy of yours fuck like a mink!"
"Drugs! Do you h-have to do everything . . . w-with drugs?"
"No.. .but they help!"
He removed the cork from the bottle and came to the side of the bed. Leering down at her, he croaked, "You're going to drink this!"
"No!" she cried. "NOO!"
"Oh . . . you'd rather be persuaded . . . ? " He sat down on the bed, reached again into the paper bag, scrabbled in the bottom and came up with a small paper wrapped package. She recognized what it was, instantly: A single edged razor blade. Unwrapping it, he held the flat, deadly sharp thing between his thumb and forefinger. The madness gleamed in his eyes as he leaned toward her, "Should I start with the surgical removal of one of those pert little nipples . . . ? "
Horror gripped her. Instant tears started into her eyes as they widened with terror. "Oh, my God! My Goddd! No!"
The tiny blade in his hand came down toward the coral nipple of her right breast; it touched her skin, he dragged it lightly in a small circle outlining the swiftly puckering areola. It was a mere surface scratch, but the blood welled from the inch long incision, the droplets running down the swelling whiteness of her breast as she looked down with the startling realization that he had actually drawn blood . . . and that the next move might mutilate her. She had never felt so helpless, so defenseless . . . so alone and terror-stricken! Oh, God! She didn't want to be cut! The searing pain of it came slashing through her senses. She looked down at the blade in his hand, poised now over her left nipple. With a deep sigh of resignation, she whispered. "I-I'll drink it. . . . "
"GOOD!" he growled; then, "Groovy!" He held the neck of the bottle to her lips. She drank, not caring, not tasting. The vision of possible mutilation was too strong in her mind Ugh!
The thought came to her as she drank, the somewhat bitter, fiery liquid sliding easily down her throat: She had heard it.. . or had she read it in some popular magazine; she couldn't remember. Then, it came to her; she had read: There is no known substance that is truly an aphrodisiac. It is only a matter of belief! No matter, then. Whatever it was she was drinking from the bottle, it couldn't possibly have the effect Peter had described. He had said, . . And, this stuff will make you fuck like a mink!" She was consoled by the affirmative words of the magazine article. The liquid would not do anything to her . . . except perhaps it might be a slight intoxicant.
Peter held the bottle to her lips until the last drop was drained. He gloated down at her. "Now, we'll just wait for a while . . . until it takes effect!"
Boldly, she said, "It'll never work!"
"We'll see, baby! We'll see!"
"I know it won't work! I read an article. . . . "
He laughed. "Don't believe everything you read! I've already experimented with this stuff . . . I gave some to a sweet young virgin last week. . . . " He stopped, remembering the scene, reliving it in his mind. "She fucked for eight solid hours. There was a jump line . . . she took on about twenty-five guys! I fucked her four times, myself!"
"Ugh! How horrible!"
"It was groovy, man! like Groovy! She had it every way possible . . . and still wanted more!"
Now, some doubts began to assail her. Was it possible? Oh, God! She hoped it was not! Maybe Peter was lying . . . telling her these things just to make her believe that the liquid he had forced on her would make her do those things, too! He could be using a sort of psychological persuasion. . . . And his language. . . . He was saying those vile words for their salacious effect. That was it! He was only trying to make her believe that he had given her a powerful aphrodisiac.
Again, her stepson rummaged in the shopping bag. This time he came up with a small tin. She recognized it as a container for cough drops. He opened the lid and selected a tightly rolled tube of brown wheat-straw paper. Tearing a paper match from a matchbook, he carefully lit the homemade cigarette. The pungently sweet smoke drifted to her, and she watched with fascination as he drew the smoke deep into his lungs, holding his breath for several moments before he exhaled.
She knew that it was not tobacco. It must be-Oh, God! It had to be!-marijuana! He was going to get stoned on marijuana, himself!
He smiled down at her, a tenuous, almost tender smile. "Care for a drag on this roach?"
Terri grimaced. "God, no!"
"No, I guess you wouldn't . . . the Dhattura's enough. . . . "
Languidly, he pulled his legs up and crossed them under him; his eyes closed. He sat upright, silent and immobile.
How long he sat that way, Terri couldn't estimate; additionally, she realized, she had no way, yet, of knowing how long she had been unconscious . . . or how long she had been trussed up on her bed. She twisted her head to look toward the double French windows. The drapes were closed. She could not see out. Straining her sense of hearing, she listened for the sounds of traffic on the boulevard. There was only the sounds of cars passing, intermittently, muffled, as from a great distance, and far away, she heard the wail of a siren. She decided that it must be well past midnight and that there was a heavy fog lying over the city.
She watched her stepson as he smoked, his eyes closed, his face slack. He held the narcotic cigarette between thumb and forefinger, the burning ash turned in to the palm of his hand, the hand and arm coming up slowly to place the cigarette carefully between his lips. There was the long, slow drag of inhalation, the long, interminable moments of held breath, and, finally, the slow, controlled exhalation of the gray smoke.
What, she asked herself, was he thinking? What was going on inside this mixed up boy? . . . And, most of all, she wondered why he was holding her prisoner . . . with intentions of raping her? Why? WHY? Her only hope, perhaps, would lie in the possibility of talking him out of it . . . but that had been unsuccessful, so far. She shuddered again at the memory of the razor blade and his threat to mutilate her. Looking down, she saw that the wound he had made was closing, the thin line of blood drying to a dark, almost black color. It didn't hurt, now, but she was grateful that it was only a superficial scratch. Had she not agreed to drink that awful stuff, would he have severed the nipple? There was no doubt in her mind. She was sure that he would have done it! . . . But, what about the liquid from that bottle? Dhattura he had called it. . . . What if it really were everything he said it was? The graphic image of his description raced through her mind. He had said, "I gave some to a sweet young virgin last week.. . . She fucked for eight solid hours!"
Then unexplainably, she felt it begin in her, the first tiny, keening tingle in her loins like a small spark of warmth, seeming to spread, permeating her whole belly. She remembered reading a description of the small spark from a passing motorist's cigarette that had started a huge forest fire, a fire that destroyed thousands of acres of prime timber land. Oh, God! Don't let this be like that tiny spark!
. . . But, relentlessly and against her will the heat grew in her. What could it be? She didn't really believe the bunkum Peter had told her about the aphrodisiac effects of the drug he had forced her to drink. She knew there was nothing to it! . . . Or was there? She was not sure, now? God! She was getting hot! She recognized the sensations in her; they were sexual. She was becoming sexually aroused, and Peter had not yet touched her . . . unless he had done so while she was unconscious. She decided against that. No! Peter had done nothing to arouse her, yet!
Sensuously, she began to squirm. Her legs were drawn up and she pressed her thighs together firmly but only momentarily, for she began to move the shapely, white columns, pressing them, rubbing them against the secret, burning fires that lay between her legs. God! It was beginning, and she didn't want it! . . . Didn't want him to know she was on fire! Oh, God! She was lost before it had even begun! It was the drug! It had to be the drug!
Peter stirred. His cigarette had burned down perilously close to his fingers. Carefully, he snuffed it out, shaking the remaining scraps of grass into another small tin and wadding the paper into a small ball that he put into his mouth. She watched as he chewed and swallowed. Now, he turned to her and smiled that strange, tenuous smile again. "Groovy!" he said. "Groovy . . . ! "
He knelt on the bed beside her. "Spread your legs . . . stepmother!"
"P-Please . . . P-Peter.. . ? Stop now . . . b-before it's too late!"
"There's no stopping it now, baby! We just groove! Onward!" He grasped her ankles and spread her legs, forcefully. "Do what I tell you, you bitch! . . . Or do I get my little blade back into the act.. . ? "
"God, n-no! N-Not that!"
Tremblingly, she allowed her thighs to open, helplessly baring her naked vagina to his gaze. Peter looked down at the moist, coral luscious-ness that was opened to him. His mouth fell agape. "like man! Groovy!" he muttered. "like, groooowvyy!"
His hands moved to her, his thumbs pressed to either side of the sparsely, hair-ringed cuntal lips, and tenderly he spread the vertical mouth, exposing even more the glistening jeweled splendor. He felt her warmly smooth and soft inner thighs quiver against the backs of his hands and heard the quickly indrawn breath gurgle deep in her throat; then, he leaned forward and opened the soft, fleshy inner petals to his salacious gaze. With the tip of his tongue he touched first, the tight, opening of her cunt, then the peeping bud of her clitoris. The erotic shock of his touch surged through her, convulsively, and he felt its transmission to his probing tongue.
"Please P-Peter . . . don't do that.. . ? " she begged. "P-Please let me g-go . . . my arms are hurting!"
"If I untie you . . . will you promise not to run away . . . or to fight against me . . . ? "
It was more than she had bargained for; she hadn't really thought he would release her hands. Quickly, she agreed. "Y-Yes . . . yes, I promise!" she said eagerly.
He leaned over her, then, kneeling up and sliding forward on his knees, as he worked to untie the knotted ropes. His penis lanced out from his body, massively, and as he leaned over her, the silky, blood-engorged head brushed against her breasts. She looked down, then, to see it dance perilously close to her face. Involuntarily, she turned her face aside. God! She didn't want that touching her face!
Peter noted her movement. "You'll get plenty of practice blowing that.. . later!"
"B-Blowing . . . ? "
"Yeah! Eating it! Sucking on it!"
"That's horrible . . . ! " she moaned.
"Maybe . . . " he grinned. "But tell me about it, later . . . after you've had a taste of it!"
"I'd never do that!"
"We'll see . . . " he said, smugly.
Her hands were free, now, the cufflets removed, and she rubbed at her wrists to restore circulation in them.
Peter returned to his former position, kneeling between her thighs, pressuring them wide apart with his knees. He grunted with satisfaction as her thighs opened to him again, and he dropped his head downward to bury his face in her naked, defenseless loins.
Raising her head slightly she looked down between her proud, erect breasts at his lowered head buried down between her open legs. She saw his eyes watching her, his quick, lewd smile as his head raised to appraise her reactions.
"OOooh!" she gasped.
She jerked, as his hot, moist lips closed over the tiny, helplessly throbbing bud of her clitoris, his tongue working there for a few moments before moving on, lower to plant tantalizing kisses moistly on the closed opening of her pussy, his tongue darting like an eel into the collecting moisture of the tiny bearded mouth.
Terri felt the fires of her passion being stoked higher and higher, and she remembered how it had been with Pauline. Pauline, her woman-lover had paid court to her breasts, her thighs, her belly . . . every part of her body, all of her had been involved in their Lesbian love-making. She needed it now. Indeed, she wanted it!
Unconsciously, narcissistically, her hands crept to her own breasts, caressing them, her fingers playing with the spiky hardness of her nipples, smoothing and cupping the melon-like mounds in the palms of her hands; then, as though her hands had a life of their own, they moved down over her belly, smoothing down over her soft blonde pubic triangle, finally, coming to rest on either side of his gently nibbling lips. Her fingers stroked there, softly, as her mind raced out of control with unreason, her body commanding, demanding, and against all possible arguments to the contrary, her fingers, self-willed, or controlled by some other being, spread the fleshy, coral-lined, golden, hair-fringed lips of her cunt . . . spread them slowly, deliberately, allowing his hungry, voraciously consuming mouth complete access to the moist secrets of her cunt, her hips moving up to him, offering him all of her to do with as he chose.
Her elbows pressed in tight against her ribs and her head flailed crazily from side to side, out of control, as his hot, searing tongue shot out, its soft, flicking tip moving in circles on her quiveringly erect clitoris. His lips sucked in, drawing the warm, soft folds surrounding it into his mouth while his tongue continued its maddeningly tantalizing licking of the urgent, hard smoothness of the miniature phallus.
Terri groaned, the husky, muted sound coming from deep in her throat as the hot, probing tip worked its way up and down the length of the narrow female furrow, starting at the top most portion above the clitoris and pressuring its way down and down over the elastic rimmed opening of her clasping vagina and into the crevice of her now sensuously flexing buttocks where it stopped momentarily to circle the tight, brown throbbing anal mouth that nestled secretly there. She felt her hips flexing and grinding of their own volition and heard the mewling, animal-like sounds that came, unbidden from between her passion-clenched teeth.
She couldn't believe that it was happening to her. She just couldn't! What was left of her rational mind told her it was so. She was actually responding to her own stepson . . . wanting him to go on and on!
Peter worked hungrily at her cunt, the moist, satiny pubic hair brushing tantalizingly against his cheeks. He smiled a smile of triumph. He had done what he set out to do! His stepmother who had loathed and hated him was lying here, squirming under him, responding like a bitch in heat to his tongue between her legs! Damn! He had wanted to fuck her ever since his father had married her! God damn that old man! He didn't know anything about sex!
All he could do was ram his cock home a few times and crawl off, again, leaving his wife completely unsatisfied. Peter knew this! He had listened and watched . . . watched, as later, she had gone into the privacy of her bathroom to gain sexual release with her hand. It was a sad thing to behold.
But she had scorned him! That had stung him. He knew he had more to offer her. God! He loved her . . . wanted her, but she couldn't, wouldn't allow him to get near her; after all, there wasn't that much difference in their ages. He was young, strong and virile, and his staying power, he knew, was tremendous and long, especially when he was on pot. This was the new generation. He knew that drugs was the answer to everything in the world. If people would turn on to drugs, everybody would be too busy loving to fight wars. God! Life was beautiful, and Grass and Hash helped to make it beautiful!
Her mewling groans of pleasure drove his tongue faster as it worked its way up and down the pulsating, passion-engorged lips of her tortured genitals. Yes, that was it! He wanted her bagging for it when he was finally ready to sink his hardened, throbbing cock deep into her tight little cunt. He grinned to himself. This was only the beginning. There was most of the weekend ahead of them. He intended to make the most of it. He was going to fuck her every possible way there was!
He knew that she was too far gone . . . too aroused to fight against him, now. He could do anything to her. His mind began to form erotic scenes, pictures, vivid and alive of all the acts he would perform on her naked body. It was wild and groovy. He had a good imagination.
Peter could not help gloating to himself as, suddenly, her hands were clawing at his hair trying to guide his face to the tight, palpitating cunt-mouth, below. Gleefully, he plunged his tongue into the softly ringed, coral flesh, teasing it for a moment, then as quickly withdrawing it to tantalize, mercilessly, the uneven, somewhat irregular pink, rimming flesh.
She groaned aloud, piteously, and clutched at him forcefully, pressing his mouth down hard directly over the taut, constricted hole in her now hungrily squirming loins, her hips jerking up against him in counterpoint.
He did his best to comply, ramming his oral member deep down into her seething pussy, rounding his lips and covering the cleaving, dewy opening to bring a low, throaty groan of wanton pleasure from her lips. Again, he grinned at the thought that it was his father's wife whose warm, sculpted thighs were closing spasmodically and with wanton abandon around either side of his head. He could feel the moist flesh slip damply around his long, extended tongue as the smooth wet walls of her cuntal passage opened and closed in a tiny sucking motion, almost as though her cunt were attempting to draw his tongue deeper and deeper into itself. He imagined that it was like a nibbling, hair-lined mouth that was trying with all its lust-inspired strength to suck his tongue out by the roots . . . to devour it, completely. Groovy!
Now, her heels snaked out in the air and pushed down against his back, pressing his lean, muscular body into the soft, writhing trap of female flesh between her uplifted thighs. His nose was mashed against her pulsing clitoris and he could only inhale the pungent aroma of her warm pulsating young cunt. The delicate tang of her womanly loins incited his cock to a rock-hard state that he couldn't endure much longer. He had to fuck her soon or he would burst like a pricked balloon. The ache in his cock was exquisite, but the damned up semen behind its cofferdam of tumescent flesh demanded release. He couldn't wait, now, for more than a few moments!
Terri's body-mind was lost completely in the rapture of the moment. Her sensate, sex-oriented being was aware of only the slashing, searing fire in her loins as she tensed and strained her steaming vagina upward toward the maddeningly tantalizing and inquiring tongue that moved snake-like between her widespread legs.
Her updrawn legs opened and closed around the tormenting head of the avidly ravening tongue that was licking voraciously at her flame-seared hole. The cords of her neck stood out with the strain as she pulled with savage strength at the hair entangled in her taloned fingers, attempting to draw him even closer in to her blazing crotch.
"Oh! OOOhhh! AAAAaaaagh!" she moaned, splaying her legs out in an ever-widening vee to allow him greater access to the no-longer secret femaleness. Oh, God! She wanted it! She had never wanted anything more than this!
Peter Marklin could stand it no longer. He couldn't wait, now, even if he tried. His cock throbbed like a wild, feral animal's cock ready for the rutting season. He grabbed at her flailing legs, grasping them behind the knees and bending her nearly double, thrust them back roughly against her shoulders, slithering up over her sweat-soaked body at the same time. His rigid, pulsing prick brushed, teasingly, against the damp, moistness of her soft, golden pubic hair. He braced his hands on the mattress on either side of her shoulders and forced her legs up and back more until her ankles were locked tightly behind his neck. He looked down between their bodies-his own slim and muscular, his cock poised ready in her open hair-lined furrow-and saw the upturned magnificence of her carved-ivory buttocks, the plane of her cunt now completely exposed and helpless before him.
Almost visibly, the expanded, narrow cunt-slit throbbed with her heartbeat, the coralline furrow held widespread by the pressure of his legs against her full marble-white thighs.
His voice croaked in a dry throat, "Now, little stepmother, I'm going to fuck you silly!" His face grinned down into hers, the lust showing plainly, his boyishly handsome features twisted with his demanding passion.
Through drug-dimmed eyes, Terri could vaguely see the face hovering over her. His words were only unintelligible sounds pouring from his twisted lips. At that point in time, the only realities were the animalistic ones of sensation and feeling. Below, she could feel the fleshy staff of his cock lying full length and hard in the open, quivering slit of her cunt. The involuntarily jerking, red cowl of the tip lay palpitating between her widespread ass cheeks, insinuating itself in a rising and falling sawing motion, tantalizing her with a maddening delay that caused her to writhe her hips up toward it, her hungry pussy searching avidly for the spongy, blood-engorged head.
She had to have it! She had to have it inside of her. Her belly demanded it; screamed for it! Oh, God! This need would drive her insane! Then, the flashing thought of the great irony involved in her wanting the son instead of the father intruded. She realized that she had never felt this way before. George had never made her want it like this! It was Pauline who had, unknowingly, prepared her for this. Yes! Pauline, her woman-lover had made her want a man's cock in her, more than ever before.
Appalled at the thought, she tried to reject it, but in perturbed panic her hands found their way between them searching for the thing she wanted. She grasped the hard-muscled length of his member in both hands, caressing it tenderly, the while mewling with satisfaction as she sensed its convulsive spasms against the soft palms of her hands, the thick oozing and viscid moisture from the slit in its tip dribbling down to moisten her hands. The pulsating prick in her hand, like the kicking tiller of a sloop beating to windward, she steered it up the channel between the smooth, quivering globes of her ass, never allowing it to lose contact with the pink flesh of her cuntal furrow until she had placed it squarely between the viscously lubricated lips of her hungering vagina. She held it in place and reached for the slim, muscular buttocks of the boy-man. Desperately with all the strength of her arms she tried to pull the massive hardness into her to quench the raging fires that burned, uncontrolled, in her naked, upturned loins.
Peter had been waiting for just such action on her part. Her overt reaching to claim him pleased him no end. This was it! Now he would make her beg for it. That was the only way she would really appreciate it, he had decided. She would beg like a wanton bitch! Flexing his muscles he resisted her attempts to pull him into her. Wait, Bitch!
With a groan born of lewd desperation, she redoubled her efforts to capture his cock. Grimly, he resisted her, waiting for the exact instant to impale her. He liked that word: Impale; it described exactly what he would do to her! Wait!
"Oh, Peter!" she cried, her voice croaking with emotion.
This is it! This is the time! He flicked his hips forward, driving with all his strength.
Terri winced with pain as she felt the elastic lips of her throbbing vagina forced widely open. Momentarily, the fleshy snugness resisted the pressure, then gave way beneath the brutal onslaught of the huge phallus, blood-filled and rock-hard that was wielded by the boyish lover on top of her. The agony of his entry shocked her for a long moment, and she involuntarily screwed her buttocks down into the mattress to avoid the sudden impalement of her genitals.
"AAAaaaagh!" she screamed. "Oh, Goddd!" George had impaled her before, but never like this. The son exceeded the father's excesses.
Peter reveled in her scream. He thrust into her, again, harder, listening for the moan of anguish to follow. He suddenly wanted to hear her scream . . . scream for mercy . . . for her life!
He rammed into her with everything he had! Flickering dimly in the back of his brain was an image of his father doing the self-same thing to her, and momentarily there was an understanding of his father. As he speared into her, cruelly, he felt his balls, swinging below, crack resoundingly against her tiny twitching anus as she writhed and ground her squirming buttocks down hard into the softness of the bed to escape the brutal impalement. She screamed her heart out! Her legs jerked and splayed out on either side of his long, lean and muscular body, waving with futility in the air.
"P-Peter! Peter! Oh, God! No! NOOOoooooo! Please?! " she choked out, her naked, white body pinned helplessly to the mattress almost as though she were a Monarch Butterfly pinned to an exhibit board. Oh, God! She couldn't stand it!
Every movement to escape the huge log buried in her cunt only worsened her position; the head of his expanded cock only seemed to bury itself deeper and deeper into her tortured belly.
Her stepson's outstretched arms pinioned her, while his widespread knees against her held her splayed thighs immobile and fully extended to the sides. She felt certain that he would rip her right down the middle, the monstrous thing imbedded in her cunt being the instrument to rend her in two parts. The searing shaft of hard flesh felt as though it would emerge from her throat, as the heavy ballooned head collided with her cervix and the power of his thrust rocked her head backward onto the pillow.
Peter gaped down at her from his dominant position with a lewd smirk on his lips. He was elated, and he grinned even more widely as he saw her face twisted in a grimace, her lips curling back from her teeth as pleading incoherent whimpers came from deep in her throat. Her arms were outstretched, the palms of her hands against his hips, on the bony ridge there, attempting to hold back the blunt, hard knob that pressed in against her womb with inexorable pressure.
Through his own drug-fogged senses, he knew that he had won . . . he had conquered her, as he held her pinned down in that lewd, humiliating position. He glanced down to see his own curly, pubic hair entangled tightly with the golden fluff of her mound, the base of his thick, fleshy cock barely showing from its submerged depths in the throbbing, moist furrow-the very same slit that his salacious tongue had licked into craving receptiveness only moments before. He could see that the tight lips of her cunt, were stretched almost beyond endurance, the spongy, outer rim clasping tightly about the massive base of his young virile cock.
Terri was helplessly pinned beneath him. She squirmed in agony; all rational thoughts had fled from her. Her mind was a maze of disoriented thoughts and images. She could feel the searing hot pain of his sudden entry, the hard shaft of flesh pushing relentlessly at her in-sides. All her being seemed to be concentrated at the spread of her thighs where her stepson's boyish cock lay deeply imbedded. She flexed the muscles of her loins tightly together in a further attempt to hold back the brutal invasion of the huge, ravishing rod of flesh, but the internal throb of muscle seemed only to incite the monster the more. It worked its way deeper and deeper into her vainly resisting channel. She could feel the fleshy walls of her cringing cuntal passage clasp defensively around it like a rubber sheath. She was aware of its every hard, fleshy ridge as her inflamed nerves transmitted to her confused brain every detail of its form and substance. God! It was huge! It seemed almost as though it were alive, had a life of its own deep up inside her belly.
Suddenly, unexplainably, as the hard, spongy head of his cock pressed with relentless pressure against her cervix, the lining of her cuntal passage possessively enveloped and sheathed the phallus imbedded there, the tickling of his hairy balls where they hung, heavily, in the crevice of her ass, she felt as one with him, united by the bridging action of his giant cock; then, in spite of the pain and discomfort, her tongue snaked out to lick at her lips, sensuously. There had never been anything in her life to compare with this! This was it! She lived only for this moment! Involuntarily, her cunt muscles contracted around the deeply submerged cock as the lascivious thoughts arced through her drug-befogged brain.
God! At last his waiting game had paid off! Peter felt the slight flutter of her cunt around his penis. This was what he had been waiting for; what he knew would come. He gloated down at her, hovering almost motionless, waiting, now for her to become accustomed to the massive presence that filled her. Now, he expanded it, again, flexing it against the sensitive walls of her pussy, but holding his body rigid and unmoving, as he poised himself over her helpless body.
"Oh!" Terri whimpered, her mouth ovaling, fighting still the thin hairline of sensation that divided pain from pleasure.
Peter waited, again, then flexed powerfully within her, and as he watched her face beneath him, her mouth fell agape and her eyes clenched tightly closed.
"OOOOoooh!" she cried and held her breath as the buried cock expanded even more, stretching the tight passage to accommodate his massive member; then, he set a deliberate tempo of expansion and contraction, a teasing, tantalizing cock-rhythm of voluptuousness. He watched as her nostrils flared and her throat worked with little mewling sounds of pleasure that joined in cadence with the tempo he had set.
"Oh, Oh, OOh, OOOoooh!" she purred. Then, "OOOOOoooooh, yes! Yes, Peter . . . darling! Yessss!"
He reveled within himself as he felt her urgent counter-pointing throbs around the head of his erect penis. Her moist, clasping cunt walls began a gentle massaging motion, opening and closing around the full length of the pulsating shaft of male flesh he had buried to the hilt in her.
Not moving, yet, he continued the measured pulsing deep within her cock-pierced body. Now, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her open mouth, thrusting his tongue deep to savor the sweetness there, and her whole body began to come to life under him, writhing and twisting as she groaned, incessantly, up into the moistness of his mouth. With sudden and complete wantonness, she plunged her tongue deep into his throat. Low, passionate mewls of servile acceptance emitted from her throat, her beautiful face twisted with erotic anticipation, her mouth working on his ravenously sucking and probing as her neck strained and a light sweat broke out in tiny droplets on her forehead. Her blonde hair was disheveled as her head moved as on oiled hinges from side to side and her unseeing eyes rolled, unfocusing, in her head. In a near unconscious state, her hips began to roll and buck up against the hardened spear of flesh that impaled her. Suddenly, her voracious, unsatisfied cunt screwed itself up tighter against his hair-covered pelvis, trying to absorb yet more of him into the seething depths of her being. Peter was forced to clench his teeth and call upon all his powers of self-control to maintain himself immobile above her for just a little while longer. Wait! Not yet! He would make her scream for it first!
There was no pain now. There was only sensate, rapturous pleasure. She had never known that it could be like this. Her whole body was coming to life; a maddening tingle had seemed to burst into being deep down in her belly. It slashed through her cunt, searingly, the raw nerve ends of her vibrant flesh electric with the super-charged perceptivity of sensual carnality. It danced like wildfire across her white quivering thighs, racing down her legs to curl her toes tightly in against the soles of her feet, changing direction then to charge with insane abandon up through her rib cage and out to the erect pink nipples capping the magnificent globes of her marble-white breasts.
Peter moved his hands down the well rounded curves of her hips and sides and slipped them under the pliantly soft smooth cheeks of her moving buttocks. They undulated to his touch, flexing and relaxing with lithe strength, oozing like yeast dough around his strong fingers, as he pressed them tightly up to him. Then, as he drew her loins up harder to his own boiling-hot loins, he felt her, of her own volition, pull her thighs back a little more, the moist slipperiness of her cunt flowering open to absorb his cock to even greater depths. The cords in her neck stood out sinewy and hard as she strained and squirmed beneath him. Never had she known such searing sensations, and at that moment, nothing mattered to her except wanting . . . wanting more and more of that wonderful thing that was buried so deep in her upraised cunt. Incessant and uncontrollable sounds of animal pleasure came from her throat in incoherent torrents.
Now! Now is the time! Peter gloated.
He hissed through clenched teeth at her, "You want it, now . . . don't you?"
"Yes, OOOooh, yes!" she groaned without hesitation.
"Little stepmother," he leered, "do you remember how you turned me down . . . ? "
"Y-Yes . . . but I . . . I thought you.. . . "
"You thought I wasn't good enough for you!" he finished.
"N-No . . . that's not it . . . you . . . " she tried, again; then, "P-Please Peter . . . oh, God, you've teased me enough. . . . "
"Beg, bitch! Beg me to fuck you!" he barked. "That's the only way you'll get it, now! Beg! I want to hear you beg me for my cock!"
Terri, even at that moment, in wanton and abandoned rapture, agonizingly, anticipating the ecstasy of fulfillment, at last, in a sex act that was more than she had ever expected, could not comprehend what it was he wanted. He wanted her to beg him? Never! Her brain, short-circuited, temporarily, rebelled. No! She couldn't do that.. . ! She could not bring herself to say it to her own husband's son!
She shut her eyes, and a groan of frustration escaped her lips. Her whole being, body and mind, recoiled at the command he had given, but she had not reckoned that it was her body ruling her, then. Yes, her body had been swayed, for a moment by the computer-brain; however, the sensations in her loins continued, overpoweringly, to send their desperate messages, jamming the reasoning part of her mind, again. Her whole existence lay there in her sensate, cock-filled cunt. Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her exquisite cheeks.
"Beg! God damn it! Beg me to fuck you silly!" Peter snarled, digging his fingers in hard and cruelly, bruising the soft, tender ass-cheeks in his grasping hands.
"Yes . . . ! Yes, I'll beg.. . . Do it to me, P-Peter.. . ! "
"Not that way! Say it! Say: Fuck me! Say: Fuck me in the cunt. . . with your big cock! Say it! God damn you!"
Her voice broke with the effort, but she managed, "P-Peter, darling . . . fuck me.. . . "
"The rest of it!"
"F-Fuck me in the c-cunt . . . w-with your b-big cock . . . " she murmured helplessly, her voice barely audible to him.
Then, she babbled on incoherently, "Yes, oh, yes! I want you to fuck me . . . I want you to fill me up with cock! Your cock . . . in my cunt . . . keep it there, forever! Fuck me! Oh, FUCK!"
True, she had heard the words before, but she had never spoken them. George used them . . . and she could not forget her shock when Pauline had mouthed the obscene words. Now . . . her own lips were dripping with the lewdness, and for the first time in her life. Somehow, there was a new lascivious thrill generated in her; it swirled through her mind and she rotated her hips around the rigid, massive cock with vigor, her vagina contracting and dilating in time to the rhythmic beating deep up inside her.
"You're learning . . . " Peter said.
". . . And you're teasing me, darling . . . ! Why don't you do something . . . ? Why don't you start ramming your cock into my c-cunt. . . ? " she whined.
". . . Because, you're going to work for it now!" he rasped.
"You mean . . . ? "
"I mean start shaking that hot little ass of yours!" Peter barked.
The command galvanized her into immediate action. He felt her pelvis move under him, screwing herself up against the full length of his rock-hard cock. The tiny contracting muscles of her cunt-walls were nibbling voraciously at the blood-inflated head. The stretched lips of her cuntal passage pulled away, slipping moistly down his staff for several inches before munching their way back up, again, to weld her loins tightly to his, her soft, golden down mingling with his darker pubic hair and embedding the massive member deep into her warm, white belly. He held himself rigid and unmoving above her, but that is not to say he was not moved; he was. The sensations she generated in his aching cock were almost unbearable, as he remained immobile, concentrating on what was happening below. He kept his hands braced flat on either side of her shoulders, allowing her squirming body, beneath him, to pump up and down the whole length of his hardened rod of flesh with feral, wildly animalistic fury.
Peter watched in fascination the slow withdrawal between them as his penis extracted thin ridges of coral flesh that clung to the shaft of his penis which were then stuffed back in, again, the fleshy, pink folds disappearing inside with the length of him when her cunt again consumed his sperm bloated cock into the quivering, hungry opening. He let her work, marveling at the utter abandon, the dazed, ecstatic and drug dimmed smile that played across her lips. God! She was more than he had thought she would be! Groovy! like, Groovy! Man! He smiled, languidly, to himself, as he felt the sharp slap of his balls against the unprotected, defenseless anus that nestled in its secret crevice, below. Now, it was time to really show the bitch something! He wanted to completely bend her to his will . . . subjugate her, humiliate her, debase and demean her.
Down, down over the satiny, smooth skin of her slaving ass-cheeks his hand went searching, his fingers feeling for the tiny, brown, puckered anus hidden there. He found it, circled it with a finger and found it warm and soft, working there, fish-mouthed with the straining movements of her ivory-mooned buttocks. Moistening his finger with the dew that ran in droplets from the depths of her pussy, he pressed the tip of the digit into the tiny, virgin hole. He used more force. The finger popped in through the elastic muscle ring, feeling the pliantly spongy flesh yield, unwillingly, to his quick insertion.
"OOOOoooohhhh!" she cried in painful protest. "That hurts!"
"You mean it hurts good . . . don't you" he corrected.
He pushed his finger in to the second knuckle, pleased with himself that he had hurt her. He wanted to hear her wail in complete subjugation.
"My Godddd! OOOOOOoooooh! P-Please . . . don't! Doooonnn't!" Her cries were loud in his ears. He grinned. She was completely defenseless; her asshole his to do with as he pleased.
. . . And, he gave no quarter; he was merciless, as he wormed his finger around inside, gleefully stretching the soft rubbery depths of her flesh wider and wider, shoving his finger deeper and deeper until the palm of his hand was pressed flat against the rounded globes of her buttocks.
Deep guttural sounds of intense pain came from deep in her chest. She knew that she could not withstand this new onslaught . . . this outrage against her body, but slowly and unexplainably-to her-the pain became a pleasure in itself, the salacious mingled with the masochistic in her mind to turn the corner into another experience. Her moans of agonized pain became purring mewls of pleasure as her ravished anus gradually became accustomed to the unnatural invasion.
Her stepson smiled his triumph down into her agonized face as she began slowly to screw her rectum back onto his probing finger, while he moved it around, at will, in the deep warmth of the spongy-fleshed channel. He bent his head down to kiss her, probing his tongue deep into her mouth to simulate and mimic the action below.
Breaking the kiss after a few moments, he teased, "Wasn't I right.. . ? "
His words were dim, confused. "Right . . . about what?" she groaned aloud, still grinding her hips hungrily beneath him.
"That it would hurt good.. . . "
"Oh, yes . . . yessss!" dreamily, her drugged mind speaking.
She was doubly, hopelessly impaled between his hard, pulsating prick in her cunt and his middle finger locked tightly into her asshole; shortly, she began twisting and squealing with wanton passion under him, moving lasciviously against the double ravishment of her loins. Her lunging thrusts upward against him became ever more urgent as she moved faster and smoother with each stroke, her even, white teeth biting hard into her lower lip as he continued to move his finger in and out of her anus with smooth, drubbing strokes while her own movements drove his massive cock in and out of her demanding cunt.
Faster and harder she thrust up at him, impaling herself, withdrawing to re-impale her tortured cunt, again and again, uncontrollably slaving away to reach the heights of rapture she could sense just beyond her reach, as she fucked his still motionless cock . . . forced to supply the fucking movements he withheld from her.
He knew she was straining to cum; he could hear the moist, sucking sounds of the in and out movement as her cunt climbed up and down his rigid stalk of flesh. How he relished the sight and sound of her moving on him with such reckless abandon! The searing sensation of near-cum burned in him deep up behind his balls. He could wait only a little while longer before he would have to squirt his load of waiting semen deep into his young stepmother's seething pussy.
Suddenly, she propelled herself up hard against him, their pubic bones cracking together, forcefully, and she arched herself off the bed, raising her hips, hefting him, her feet planted firmly on either side of his knees as she levered upward to take the last millimeter of his massive length into her passion-hungry cuntal passage. Her face was a study in mixed emotions, but the carnality, the sexual joy of imminent fulfillment crowded out the expressions of pain and shame. For her at that moment, there was nothing in the world but cock-filled cunt! God! How she loved it. . . loved him, in that instant!
She bucked against him, wildly. Now! It would come to her, soon! Soon! He pulled his finger from her rectum; it popped faintly accompanied by a short gaseous hiss, as his finger slid free of its confinement.
Terri felt it coming. She knew it in the sudden shuddering wave of convulsive muscle spasms, the slashing crash of overburdened nerve ends as they discharged their sensations into her mind. Her body jerked, thrusting faster, yet, sliding up and down the slippery pole of his young manhood in desperation to attain the crest, and . . . suddenly it was there for her!
. . . .And with her last cry of passion her body began to quake uncontrollably, as wave after convulsive wave of delicious sexual release swept through her, and her cunt milked at his cock, the internal muscles working spasmodically around his throbbing rod of deeply imbedded flesh.
Peter waited, controlling his urge to plunder and rend her cunt with the massive penis that filled her. He waited until she had groaned out the last of her ecstatic orgasm, then, her body still spasming, he reached backward, grasping her ankles and raising her tapering white legs high to drape them again up over his shoulders. He pressured her legs downward, until the entire widespread genital plane was opened to him. In this position she was helpless . . . completely defenseless, pinned, immobile, to the mattress. He could do with her as he would, and his intentions were brutal in the extreme. God! He had waited . . . waited for this moment.. . to fuck her senseless with his cock! Man!
Beneath him, she shook her head; her mind had begun to clear and rational thought returned to dominate her mind. She was trembling from head to foot, and still the subsiding waves of her orgasm were delicious, languorous.
Then, she became aware of her obscene and humiliating position under him; her legs were over his shoulders, her thighs pressed back to mash the tender mounds of her breasts, her cunt open and vulnerable. My God! She was helpless in this horrible position. She could not move in any direction.
Peter withdrew his deeply imbedded cock until just the tip of it remained in her. He laughed down into her face.
"You've had your fun," he croaked. "Now, it's my turn . . . and I'm going to fuck you half to death!"
He rammed forward with the strength of a young bull; all of his stored up energy was there driving his hips almost like a pile driver. The full, throbbing length of his aching cock sunk brutally into the coralline depths of her helpless, exposed vagina.
She cried out as the massive cudget flicked past her cervix and collided with the extreme back wall of her vaginal vault. Her cry of pain was futile. It fell on deaf ears.
Her cry only inflamed his cruel desire the more. He could hear the wet slap of his pelvis against her defenseless crotch, the racing sensations in his loins as he ravished her. Now, he dropped heavily upon her, mashing her lush, melon-ripe breasts tight to her chest. He ground his mouth into hers, plunging his tongue deeply into her throat, effectively muffling her outcry. His shoulders, pressed against the backs of her full, sculpted calves kept her secured and immobile in that vulnerable position as he battered into her like a steam pile driver gone out of control and ready to explode. Reaching under her, he forced his hands under the white, full cheeks of her ass, cupping them and kneading the warm soft flesh with his strong-fingered cruelty, pulling the rounded moons far apart. Damn! What a beautiful piece of ass!
Into her still passion-steamed passage, he began to use long, hard strokes, withdrawing until only the bulbous head lay just inside the hot, viscous cunt-mouth, then charging forward strongly, driving with his hips until he felt the smack of their pubic bones and his scrotum screwed up tight into the widespread crack of her warm, white buttocks.
Terri's head was clear, now; the drug was beginning to lose its devastating effect, and she wailed in fear and shame from her pregnable position. Now, she could begin to evaluate, to think somewhat clearly. My God! It must have been the drug, the drug he had given her! What had she done? Peter was raping her! And . . . worse, she might even become pregnant from her own stepson! Oh, God! Help me! Please help me!
She groaned, again, as her naked, vulnerable cunt was plundered and plumbed almost beyond endurance. Her head rolled from side to side, her body recoiling with each jack hammer thrust, and she could do nothing . . . could not avoid it.. . it was impossible to fight back. Her arms were pinned down at her sides by her painfully pressed-back legs, and she could feel the huge stalk of his maleness sliding up and down the inside of her vagina like a smoothly oiled piston.
It wasn't possible! She couldn't believe it! Suddenly, she was reacting, again . . . wanting it to go on and on! Shooting sparks of passion were being generated all over, again, in her loins. She felt as though her whole being were concentrated in the cusp of her crotch. It was a flaming hole that had to be filled with hard cock. She had to have it! She didn't care if he made her pregnant!
Her voice came to her, strange and croaking. She was saying words . . . words that came to her from the depths of a passion-wracked body-mind that sought only the pleasure of that moment. She was only a cunt, a cunt that had to be fucked!
"Fuck me, damn it! Fuck me harder!" she heard herself saying. "Fuck me . . . deep and hard!"
Now, her vaginal lips flared open even more to receive the delicious, ravishing shaft deeper into her voracious passage. Her secret genitals spread wider yet as she consciously splayed her thighs outward to either side. Desperately, she fought to free her arms. With almost superhuman strength, she jerked her hands free and wrapped her arms around his back, her talon-like nails gouging red streaks down his back to the flexing muscles of his buttocks. Then, she strained to pull him deeper into her, as she shoved her golden down-covered pubic mound up hard to skewer herself, frantically, on the cudget of flesh that was her only connection with reality. It was almost as though she wanted to pull him bodily into her . . . a reversal of the process of birth. She drew his agile tongue hungrily into her mouth, sucking on it greedily, as the other mouth below seemed to be sucking him ever deeper into its seething, coral depths. Now, her luscious body matched him; her rhythmic lunges counter-pointed his battering plunges, and she wanted more. More! MORE!
"Come on!" she screamed, her voice rising. She was desperate, now. "Fuck me! God damn it! Fuck me harder! Ram your cock in my cunt . . . deeper and harder!"
"Groovy!" he hissed into her ear.
. . . And he began to pound into her with newfound vigor. Ceaselessly, he jack hammered his blood-engorged cock deep and deeper, long and longer, hard and harder into her naked upturned loins. His strokes were cruel, brutal, and she loved every moment of it.
Peter could feel the building explosion in him, back there in his balls, the hot, thickly white semen crowding against the cofferdam of blood-inflated flesh, ready to be spewed from the tip of his cock in an unending stream of ejaculation.
She chanted up into his face, her own countenance twisted with rapturous passion. "Fuck me, Peter! Fuck me! Fuckme, fuckme, fuckme-fuckme, fuck me!"
Wildly, he rammed his tongue far down into her throat, his clutching fingers kneaded and tore at her lush buttocks, pulling them up hard against his ramming pelvis as he slammed his spewing cock to the hilt in her softly pliant cunt.
The stream of thick, viscous liquid jetted white and hot from him, shooting into her like molten metal; she could feel it as it splashed against her cunt walls, and his rod of jerking, pumping flesh expanded in her larger than ever before.
It was magnificent! She rose to receive his final plunges in an ecstasy she could never describe. The supreme heights of sexual rapture and fulfillment were hers, again. She jerked her legs free, extending them to either side of him as his cock hosed a seemingly never-ending stream of hot, sticky sperm into her clasping and unclasping vaginal vault. She freed her mouth.
He gave one last, convulsive thrust into her as the last dregs of his white, hot semen was pumped from his aching testicles. Then, he fell forward, full length on. top of her, exhausted and satiated beyond his wildest dreams.
In a few moments, he rolled to his side, pulling his deflating prick from her sodden, semen-filled vagina.
"like, man! The most!" he said, and was soon fast asleep, the drugs and exhaustion having finally taken their toll of him.
Terri, also, slept, a wonderfully serene sleep of complete sexual satiety. For the first time in her life a man had shown her what sex was all about! God! It was beautiful! . . . But the young boy who slept beside her? He was her own stepson! Her own husband's son!
CHAPTER 5
Frank Coppol was holding his weekly council. There was much business to attend to, reports to be made and acted upon and money to be received and paid out.
He speared the speaker with his good eye. "Johnny," he said, his voice soft as usual. He was unruffled. "Johnny, that's your territory those whores are operating in. What do you know about it, so far?"
Johnny Leonard, tall, sun-tanned and good-looking, a man who could be mistaken for a television or movie personality, was visibly nervous.
"Not much, Frank. It seems to be a small operation . . . maybe five, six girls, at the most," he reported.
"Who's the guy running it?"
Leonard hesitated, glancing around the room for help that was not there. Helplessly, he said, "I don't know.. . . "
"Find out! Bring him in!" Frank Coppol issued his orders still in that soft voice.
"Right, Frank," he said, looking down at the rug. "Right away!"
Coppol dismissed the problem as having been solved already. He looked around the room at the alert, expectant faces. It might have been a meeting of the board of an important financial corporation. There were twelve men present, all well-dressed and meticulously groomed. His good eye came to rest on another face. "Next item," he said briskly, "is Guido's report on that problem down at San Pedro. I'd like to know why there was a work stoppage, after we promised there wouldn't be any more?"
* * *
George Marklin was not in Colorado. He had merely gotten into his car and driven to Santa Monica where he had parked in a numbered stall in the carport of a well appointed apartment house, got out, mounted the stairs, knocked at the door of apartment 21B and was admitted by a svelte brunette who greeted him, warmly, put a dry martini in his hand and didn't object when he suggested after a few moments that they go into the bedroom and do some fucking.
"You're not busy, tonight, are you?"
"No, George . . . I cancelled out an all-night John when you called me," she answered, matter-of-factly.
"I'll make it up to you," he promised.
They were lying on her bed. She leaned over his loins to take the inflated head of his penis into her mouth. She was clearly an expert, and Marklin liked the way she did it.
"How would you like to make a party of this?" he asked.
"Sure, honey . . . anything you want," she agreed, removing her ovaled lips from the bulbous head of his cock; then, she added, "another girl . . . or another guy?"
"Another girl," he said, reaching for the bedside phone.
He dialed an unlisted number; soon a woman's voice came down the wire to him, "Hello?"
"Pauline? Is Gloria booked up, tonight?"
In the bedroom of her lavish home in Brentwood, Pauline looked across the bed at the redheaded Gloria, who lay, legs widespread, her hips hungrily undulating, waiting for the return of Pauline's exciting mouth to her sensate genitals.
"No, she's not booked . . . but she told me not to, because she's having her menses . . . " she lied.
"She's what?"
"She's got the rag on!" Pauline said, more indelicately.
"Oh, I see . . . that time of the month . . . " he said, enlightened. "I'm at Fran's . . . can you send Barbara over here?"
Irritated, but not willing to show it, Pauline consulted a small book at her bedside table. "Barbara's busy . . . but I'll try to get hold of Joan . . . she's available.
George remembered Joan. Yes, she would do, he decided. "Send her over . . . Fran's, Olive-wood Towers, 21B," he said.
"I know the address!" Pauline said, testily.
"Of course!"
"Is that all, Mr. Marklin?"
"Give my regards to Gloria!"
The line went dead in her hands. Pauline slammed the receiver down. "That son-of-a-bitch!" she seethed. "Some day, he'll go too far!
"What's wrong, darling?" Gloria asked.
"That was George! He's always wanting to sample the wares! The bastard! Some day, I'll figure out a way of getting back at him!" Pauline fumed, her face working.
"Don't worry, baby," the redhead soothed. "Come on back here to me . . . my cunt's getting all cooled off.. . and it needs some more of that wonderful tongue of yours. . . . "
Pauline smiled, relaxing, "How could I forget," she said.
* * *
It was not really the work that had to be done, Jack Gordon, finally admitted to himself. Sure, there were the tender, bedding plants in the greenhouse on the Marklin estate that needed to be watered. They would dry out before Monday, but it wasn't zealousness for his work-although he did take a measure of pride in it-that seemed to draw him, beacon-like to his place of employment; rather, it was his employer's wife. It was her body, that vision of blonde female loveliness that drew him hypnotically. He had to see her! She had been in his mind all night long.
In Watts it was easy to find a black prostitute. Last night, in desperation, he had paid a comely black creature to suck him off. It had been very business-like. He had paid her. She took out his cock, fondled it to rock-hardness before oval ling her lips over it to bring him the relief he needed. The whole affair had not taken more than ten minutes of her time. He was satisfied as to physical need; the little black girl had her money and he went morosely back to his room. It was not enough! Mrs. Terri Marklin was still there, in his mind. He couldn't shake it! He had to see her!
. . . But he was not supposed to work this Saturday. At about 8:30 he drove down the boulevard toward the Marklin estate. Parking his battered pick-up truck several blocks east of the sprawling grounds, he walked, casually, along the sidewalk, turning into the long drive that led up to the large mansion house. Everything was quiet. No one stirred about the place. Actually, that was normal, Mrs. Marklin was a notoriously late-riser, usually getting out of bed well after her husband had gone off to his work at the studio.
He left the drive to walk, noiselessly, in the grass, skirting wide to avoid observation from the house itself.
"Shit!" he grunted once to himself. "Anybody'd see me they'd think I was a burglar!"
Gaining the trellis where he had climbed to the portico several times, now, he cautiously ascended, little by little, until he stood on the floor above, the double French windows three paces away.
One thing he had decided: He did work on the estate, and that was in his favor, if he were caught in this voyeuristic gambit. He also had an excuse ready if young Marklin accosted him. Those tender, little plants in the greenhouse had to be watered, today! Man! What a crock!
Jack listened. He heard nothing. The sweat stood out on his black face, glistening in the sunlight. She must be sleeping, he decided. Good! He could wait; he had never watched her as she got up, first thing in the morning. This would be something new. Did she sleep nude? Fervently, he hoped that she did.
He moved, silently, to the place where he could look through the drapes. Kneeling as he had many times, he put his eye to the gap and looked into Terri's bedroom. She was sleeping . . . but who slept with her? Shit! It's the Marklin kid!
* * *
The coming of daylight had not awakened either Terri or Peter; exhaustion and the drugs had worked to induce a deep sleep, but when Terri did, finally, awaken to the new day, it was with the sudden realization that Peter Marklin, her step-son, was sleeping next to her, curled into a fetal ball; next the memories flooded in on her now clear-headed mind. Peter had made love to her . . . and she had responded, making passionate love, saying things she had never said before in her life. Oh, God! What if George were to find out.. . ? What if he were to return early . . . walk in and find them together?!
Her mind raced. She had to get dressed and get Peter out of her bed . . . out of her bedroom, and somehow, out of her life. This sort of thing couldn't continue! It was an impossible situation!
She sat up and slid her trim, white legs over the edge of the mattress to the floor; then, she stood to look around the bedroom for a garment she could put on quickly. Glancing back, apprehensively, at the sleeping boy, she moved silently to her double dresser, opened a drawer and rummaged in it for a pair of panties.
Peter woke up; he was still slightly groggy from sleep and the after-effects of the marijuana. He sat up, saw Terri bending over the drawer and said, "Where in hell do you think you're going?"
Terri thought fast. "I thought you'd like to h-have something to eat.. . " she lied.
"Looks more like you were trying to split!" he barked.
Leaping from the bed, he advanced upon her, eyes blazing with anger. "like maybe you didn't keep your end of the bargain!"
"W-What do you m-mean . . . ? " she gasped, recognizing that she was in danger. She shot a glance at the bedroom door.
"You know . . . like you promised not to run away, if I untied you!" he said, stalking her, now.
"N-No!" she screamed. "No!"
She bolted for the bedroom door. He was there, blocking the way, his hands grasping at her. She scuttled away from him avoiding his lunge at her. Around the bed, she scurried toward the French windows, unsnapping the night latch and swinging the glass door open to dash through it. Just as she stepped onto the portico, Peter caught her, pinioning her arms to her sides and dragging her back into the bedroom.
Jack Gordon, just outside the French windows, stood to his feet just as the door swung outward to hide him from view. He had been an interested spectator of the action inside the bedroom. When Terri bolted for the door, his only thought had been for himself. He sure as hell didn't want to get caught looking in on them. It really was none of his business if she was banging her step-son while her husband-and his father-was away. Everybody to their own bag, man!
The door remained slightly ajar as Peter dragged her back toward the bed. Jack could see clearly through the crack at the hinged side of the door. He was tempted to leave then, but he was drawn, hypnotically, to continue watching, not quite understanding, yet, the meaning of what he had seen and heard, so far. He knew there were people who indulged in sadomasochistic sex acts, beating each other to complete sexual arousal; sometimes, they were tied up to do this, so he was not particularly perturbed at the mention of Terri's having been tied up then released on her promise not to run away.
Couple of weirdoes!
Peter wrestled his step-mother to the bed, his young, strong body no match for her puny female strength. He flopped her face down on the bed and soon had the leather cufflets on her wrists, effectively, immobilizing her. Breathing hard, he rose to his feet and looked down at her, "like listen to me, you little bitch," he grunted. ". . . don't try that little caper, again!"
Terri was crying. She had not cried out during the scuffle. She was sure in her own mind that it would have been futile.
"P-Please, Peter," she pleaded, "h-haven't you done enough t-to me . . . already . . . ? "
"Hardly!" he bit out. "like I told you . . . you're going to get fucked every way a woman can be fucked! The fun's just getting started!"
He looked down at her nude form stretched out, face down, helpless, before him, the smooth, rounded moons of her buttocks attracting his lewd gaze. He would make good on his threat, God damn it . . . maybe she would believe it when her snooty little asshole was filled up with his hard cock! like, Groovy!
The thought of sodomizing her to further humiliate and degrade her brought his virile cock to instant hardness.
He kneeled down on the bed, reaching down to spread her legs apart and quickly wedging them open with his own knees, then, he leaned forward to knead and caress the milky, white globes.
Terri was startled when he moved her legs apart, but she was helpless to stop him. She turned her head to look back and down as best she could, her eyes agonized and fearful.
"Oh, God, P-Peter . . . don't r-rape me . . . again!" she begged, her feeling of complete helplessness overwhelming her.
RAPE! Jack Gordon couldn't believe his ears. The little bastard had raped her? He had tied her up and raped her . . . and now he was going to do the same thing, again! This wasn't something Mrs. Marklin was doing because she wanted to . . . she was being forced! But, what could Jack do? Shit! He was a voyeur . . . watching from hiding . . . and he just happened to be watching at the wrong time! He couldn't call the cops! Wait, maybe he could . . . make an anonymous call to headquarters, then get into his truck and beat it. That's it! Make the call and get the hell out of there. It sure wasn't any business of his. If he were caught anywhere near there, he might be suspect himself . . . and if he barged into the bedroom to take some kind of action himself, that honky kid might try to shift the blame from himself to the black man . . . the simple gardener!
Well, Jack Gordon wasn't that simple! Rape of white women by black men was always sensational in the news media; besides, who ever believed a black man in these cases? It was time to get the hell out of there! Right now!
Peter was speaking, again, inside the bedroom, "I'll teach you now, you little bitch! I'm going to fuck you in the ass!"
He grabbed her by the hip bones on either side and lifted her up to her knees; then, he spat on his hand and rubbed the saliva on the swollen head of his penis, working the thick foreskin back and forth over it several times.
"Noooo!" she screamed.
Peter leaned forward to clap a hand over her mouth. He hissed into her ear, "Shut up!"
Terri struggled to escape. It was no use. Then, desperately, she bit the palm of his hand.
The blow resounded loud in the room. Peter had slapped her full in the face. "Slut!" he roared, leaping from the bed to gather up his trousers from the floor. He unthreaded his belt from the loops and doubled it in his hand.
Terri watched him in wide-eyed terror. "OOOOoooh, Goddd! P-Peter . . . no! NOOOOooooo!"
The boy stuffed a gag in her mouth, but just before her words were cut off, she spat out! "Just like your fath . . . ! "
"Maybe!" His eyes were wild, insane.
The belt swished through the air to crack, cruelly, across the twin, white mounds of her buttocks, leaving an ugly, red welt.
Terri's body quivered, the searing pain slashing through her whole being. She screamed, but only a squeaking muffled sound was released through the effective gag in her mouth.
Outside, on the portico, the black gardener winced, experiencing the blow, vicariously, his face screwing up into a grimace of concern for his employer's wife.
He groaned to himself, "The little son-of-a-bitch is a real weirdo! A monster!"
Peter's arm descended, again; the loud whack coming clearly to Jack, and he could see the second stripe on those beautiful, white globes of female flesh. Shit! I can't let this go on!
Jack Gordon stepped through the French doors, tall, solid, menacing and angry; his was a righteous anger that boiled up white hot within his black frame.
"Drop it, honky!" he said, his voice deadly but surprisingly soft.
The boy gaped, but recovered quickly. "like, what are you doing here, Gordon?"
"I'd like to ask that same question!"
"You're trespassing, nigger! like split! Get the hell out of here!"
"Love.. . ! Peace.. . ! . . . And all that crap!" Jack taunted. "Where is it, now, man?" He advanced two more steps into the room.
Young Marklin was no coward. He moved forward, making a cut with his belt at Jack's face. The belt caught him across the cheek, opening a long slanting gash.
The black man's fist lashed out, the blow striking Peter flush on the chin, rocking his head back, and his body crashed backward, the back of his neck at the base of the skull striking the edge of the double dresser as he went down. The sickening crunch of bone told Jack, instantly, that the boy was seriously injured. Man! I'm in it, now . . . right up to my ass!
He leaped across the room to kneel at the side of the fallen boy. His hand went out to feel for a pulse at the neck; there was no heartbeat at the jugular vein, and he put his ear to the young man's chest. He's dead! Dead! Shit! What do I do now? He looked up at Terri where she lay stretched out on the bed, her wrists tied, the two raw welts on her buttocks, her eyes streaming tears, pleadingly, muffled sounds coming through the gag in her mouth; her sheer helplessness was obvious to him in the uncontrolled trembling of her limbs, and he knew that this had been no lovers' game. It was for real! . . . And the dead boy on the floor was very real and very, very dead!
In a daze, completely stunned at the turn of events that had brought him, unwillingly, into the situation, he rose, went to the bed and untied the ropes that bound her wrists.
Quickly, she sat up, ripped the gag from her mouth and screamed . . . loud and long, hysterically. Jack sat down beside her and said, "Please, Mrs. Marklin . . . please settle down . . . there's no more danger . . . and screaming won't help now!"
By degrees her heart-rending sobs subsided, and she threw her arms around the gardener. She felt safe, protected in his sinewy arms. Softly, he crooned to her as he would a small child, comforting her and reassuring her.
She was still nude, and for the first few minutes of her hysteria, Jack was not aware that she was in his arms. She was another human being who needed another human being to comfort her. Later, he realized that she was the luscious white woman he had watched in secret, the woman whose body he lusted after . . . whom he wanted more than anything else in the world. Until, this moment she had been an unattainable dream; he had never thought she would be naked in his arms . . . like this, under these circumstances, or any other way.
Now, she was more calm; she looked up into his face and saw the wound made by Terri's belt. She sat back, all practical woman, "We'll have to fix that. . . . "
"Later . . . " he agreed, aware of the throbbing hardness between his legs. "We'll have to do something about him . . . first."
Terri looked down at Peter for the first time. She had not known until then that he had been injured seriously. She had thought that he was merely knocked unconscious by Jack's blow. Now, she stared in open-mouthed, wide-eyed, heart pounding terror. "He's so-so s-still! Is he . . . ? " She was unable to say it.
Jack finished it, "Yes, he's dead! The back of his head hit the dresser when he went down.. . . I hit him pretty hard.. . . "
"Oh, my Godddddd!" she screamed. "Peeee-terrrrr!"
She fell back on the bed in a dead faint, the shock of it too much for her over-taxed emotions.
Breathing heavily, feeling the burden of what he had done, what he must still do, Jack went into the bathroom, soaked a small towel in cold water and returned to the unconscious girl on the bed. Tenderly, he bathed her face and neck, and idly allowed his hands to roam, feeling the swell of her breasts, the flat belly and the curve of svelte hips and thighs. Unbidden, lust for her swept over him. It would be easy! Man! She could be all mine! Then, with almost superhuman effort he threw the temptation from him, the vision sharp within him of what had happened to a black man, merely suspected of having sexual congress with a white woman; the incident was still strong in his memory over the years. That had happened when he was quite young, in Macon. Jack Gordon would not be a rapist! That's not my bag!
But young Marklin was dead. He supposed that made him a murderer, but he knew that his interference had been right. It was a cruel fate that the boy had died. It was an accident; he had certainly had no intention of killing the young man. He had only defended himself, but self-defense, he also knew was a tricky thing in a California court. Being black already registered one strike against him.
Terri was not coming out of her faint, yet. He decided that he had better look at her wounds. Turning her over, he examined the two red welts. Fortunately, the skin was not broken. They would be black-and-blue bruises; however, he decided it might be best to apply some soothing lotion. Again, he went into the bathroom, rummaged in the medicine cabinet, found a lotion, went back to the prostrate Terri and began to swab the liquid onto the welts across the lovely, half-moons of her buttocks. Wild emotions surged through him as he massaged the smooth, white skin. Damn! She was beautiful!
With an effort, he withdrew his hands and his gaze. There were other things he must do. His mind raced. Peter's body couldn't be found there. He would have to take the corpse some other place . . . make it look as though he had met an accidental death.
Loathing the task, he carefully dressed the dead boy with the clothing he found in the room, picked up the corpse and carried it down the stairs, depositing it in the room the boy had occupied. He propped the body up in a chair, his mind having conceived a plan to use the younger Marklin's car to stage the accident.
He found the boy's car, a hot domestic, parked in the triple garage right next to Terri's familiar Jag. Opening the hood, he looked at the engine, grunted with satisfaction and went to find a small twig of the proper dimensions. He started the engine and placed the small twig in the accelerator linkage, holding it open at almost maximum r.p.m. It would work, he was satisfied. All he would have to do is reach in and pull the shift lever to drive and the car would lay down rubber as it surged forward. Now, he would have to find a suitable site for the staged accident.
He re-entered the house to see whether Terri had come to her senses. It was necessary to explain his plan to her; she had to be a part of it, because he would need her help to carry it out.
Terri was in the living room, dressed, dry-eyed now. She came to meet him, "I-Is he really . . . gone?" she asked.
Jack assured her, solemnly, that it was true. She sat down, wearily, a deep sigh escaping from her lips. "It was an accident . . . wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was, Mrs. Marklin," he said, sadly. "Now, we've got to make it look like the accident happened with his car."
"We . . . ? "
"Yes . . . we!" he said with determination. "I have to have your help.. . . "
Swiftly, he outlined what he planned to do. They were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Terri was startled. Jack motioned to her that she should answer it.
"Hello . . . ? "
Pauline's voice floated down the wire to her. "Terri . . . I want you to come down to the shop, today . . . about 2:30!"
"But.. . I-I don't understand . . . you said . . . " she began.
"I've changed my mind! It's important that I see you!" Pauline's voice was hard, decisive.
"Yes, of c-course . . . I'll be there . . . " Terri murmured.
Hanging up the phone, she turned to Jack and said, "I have to go downtown. . . . "
"Drive Peter's car," Jack told her. "Meet me at the lake!"
CHAPTER 6
Her mind seething with unanswered questions, Terri drove to THE CONTINENTAL to see Pauline. She could think of no reason for her to call, demanding that she come down to the dress shop. The tone of voice Pauline had used bothered her. Her employer had never been so angry-sounding before, but Terri's real worry was centered on Peter, the gardener, Jack Gordon, and their need to dispose of her step-son's body. In a way, she decided, she was an accessory . . . if the police ever got into the act. She had agreed to help Jack; he had explained to her how vulnerable his position would be . . . if they called the police and merely told them the truth; and additionally, she had been convinced that it would be better for her, too, if the story of her being raped did not have to be told.
She had not yet sorted out the right or wrong of it. She was glad that Jack had come to her rescue, but she was bothered by a nagging doubt that what they were doing, were going to do was, somehow, not exactly the right thing.
A startling thought struck her: Would she be, in some way, bound to Jack Gordon? Would he expect her to submit to his will . . . sexually? He had not intimated it, but she was sure that he had looked at her as only a man can look at a woman he wants! But that was impossible! He was a black man . . . the Marklin's gardener; he had merely heard the commotion in her bedroom and had come to help her. Then, another revealing thought flashed through her mind. Jack had come into her bedroom from the portico through the French windows!
She wrestled with this new idea. He would have had to climb up the trellises to get there. Had he done it before? Then, she remembered that he knew the arrangement of her room. How? She didn't know the answer, but guessed it: He had climbed up there before this . . . maybe several times. Why? The answer seemed obvious when she applied herself to it. He had watched her in the privacy of her bedroom! That had to be it! Jack Gordon was a peeping torn . . . and he had been on the portico peeping just before he walked in to stop Peter from beating her. It all fit together like a jigsaw puzzle!
* * *
Terri was seated in the living room of the plush apartment Pauline maintained on the floor above her office. She was still puzzled as to why she had been summoned there on Saturday afternoon. She had agreed to begin work on Monday, following, as a model, to pay off her debt to the dress shop. Thus far Mrs. Riggs had said nothing to indicate the purpose of the interview.
Pauline was speaking, "In view of the large amount you owe, I've decided that it must be paid back at a faster rate."
"I don't u-understand.. . . "
"The modeling fees will not be enough . . . the owner wants his money fast!"
"I can't get it any faster . . . y-you already know th-that.. . " Terri stumbled.
"Then, you'll have to get the money from your husband!"
"No, n-no!" Terri said with alarm. "I can't d-do that!"
"There is another alternative," Pauline said, smoothly. "You can entertain some men in one of my apartments!"
"E-Entertain . . . men?"
"Yes."
"You . . . m-mean . . . sex . . . sexually?" Meaning dawned on her.
"Yes . . . any kind of sex they may want!"
Terri gasped, ". . . But that's p-prostitution! I'd be a.. . . "
"Whore!" Pauline finished for her. "A very high-priced whore!"
Standing up, Terri, cried, "No! I'd rather f-face my h-husband!"
Pauline remained seated, calmly. "Sit down, Terri! I have another, stronger reason why you should cooperate. Gloria!"
Terri was startled to see a beautiful, red-haired woman, lightly clad in a see-through wrapper, her nude body undulating curvaceously under it as she crossed the room. She carried an automatic carrousel-type of slide projector. Placing it on the low coffee table, she plugged in the power cord, sat down and said, "All ready, Pauline. . . . "
Pauline nodded toward Terri, "Gloria . . . this is Terri. . . Terri. . . Gloria.. . . "
Gloria smirked, "Yes, I recognize her."
The redhead rose, crossed the room and switched off the lights. Swiftly, she returned to her seat and began to operate the slide projector.
Terri had been curious as to what this elaborate show was all about, but her mere curiosity turned to instant anguish as the first color slide was projected on the pull-down screen on the opposite wall. Terri's face loomed bigger than life on the beaded surface, her eyes closed, the passion of the moment etched plainly on her countenance as she embraced the svelte slim figure of Pauline on her bed.
She covered her eyes and moaned softly, her face coloring, rosily, "Oh, no.. . . "
"You might as well watch the whole show!" Pauline snapped.
The next slide was even more graphic, depicting Terri with her head between Pauline's thighs.
Terri sobbed, "My God . . . h-how . . . ? "
"Gloria!" Pauline said. "She does excellent photography work . . . wouldn't you say?"
The agony of watching the rest of the slides was almost more than Terri could bear, but finally it was ended, the lights snapped on. She could only sit slumped in her chair, beaten, defeated. Pauline, she realized, held the winning hand in a handful of color slides; the pictures showed plainly that she had enjoyed the lesbian interlude.
"Well . . . do you put that luscious cunt of yours to work or not?" Pauline demanded.
Terri hedged, "W-Will you give me those h-horrible slides?"
"Yes, I'll let you have them . . . when your debt is paid, but if you don't cooperate fully, I'll turn them over to your husband!"
"I-I don't s-seem to have m-much choice . . . ? " Terri sobbed.
"No, you don't have a choice!" Pauline gloated.
"W-What do I-I have t-to do . . . ? "
"Gloria will take you to the apartment . . . she'll explain things to you on the way over," the older woman said.
* * *
Gloria drove expertly through the city streets, chatting gaily, as though Terri were an old friend.
"Actually, this is a pretty easy life," she explained. "All our Johns are business and professional people who do their thing in the afternoon . . . before they go home. There isn't much night work . . . that's up to you, if you want extra work, but all our dates are afternoons . . . sometimes a few mornings. That's the beauty of Pauline's set-up . . . nobody ever needs to know where you are . . . or what you're doing, because it's all day work. Most of the girls are married.. . . "
"You . . .too?"
"Yes . . . but he's a louse . . . I get my kicks with girls . . . and make myself extra money on the side with the Johns," Gloria went on.
"Johns . . . ? "
"They're the guys we ball. . . . "
"Oh . . . ? " Terri murmured. "I guess there's a lot I-I don't know.. . . "
"You'll learn fast. I did!" Gloria assured her.
"Do you expect s-someone this afternoon . . . ? "
"Yes . . . two as a matter-of-fact.. . . "
"T-Two . . . ? "
Gloria glanced at her sideways, "They're both actors!" she furnished.
"Would I-I know them . . . would they know m-me . . . ? " Terri asked with growing apprehension.
"Maybe . . . but you don't let on . . . and neither will they!"
They arrived at the apartment building that was just like many another in the city, each striving for some distinctive individuality, but still organized along the same plan, row upon row of buildings with carports below, lavish plantings, and the inevitable swimming pool shimmering blue-green in the sunlight.
"Drink?" Gloria asked.
Terri used alcohol very rarely, but now she decided that a drink-perhaps two or threewould numb her enough for her to do what she had to do. My God! What had she gotten herself into? She was being forced to become a prostitute . . . a whore! God! She needed help. Never before had she felt so alone . . . so scared.
Gloria fixed martinis. The clear liquid went down, smoothly. Terri tossed the first one off fast. She sipped the refill, waiting for the alcohol to work its magic on her brain so she wouldn't have to feel or think. It would be better that way.
The door chimes sounded. Gloria headed for the door, "They're here," she said. "Put on your best party smile!"
The redhead opened the door to admit two well-dressed men who greeted her warmly, obviously, well acquainted with her, as they both embraced her, taking liberties with her curvaceous body. Gloria murmured something to them that Terri didn't catch, as the group came to her to be introduced.
". . . And who is this ravishing creature you've been hiding from us?" the taller of the two asked. Terri recognized him, immediately, as a popular leading man. His latest movie was showing, right then, in all the first-run movie houses.
Gloria said, "Paul . . . may I present Terri . . . and Hal . . . Terri.. . . " Hal, she realized, played in a weekly TV show.
She acknowledged the introductions, marveling that the almost formal greetings were a mockery . . . considering the reason for their being together. There must be some macabre humor working here, she decided, but she wasn't able to define it.
Finishing her second martini with them, she accepted a third, and the room began to spin; she became gay and loose.
Once, she caught Gloria's eyes in a warning that said, obviously: Take it easy! But she was caught up in the fun as the conversation bubbled around her.
Finally, Paul rose from his chair and led her into the bedroom. She felt dizzy, almost faint from the gin she had slugged down, and she knew that this was the moment she had feared, the moment when she would become something else than a former starlet, a housewife . . . a respectable woman. In just a few moments she would join the long list of women who engaged in the world's oldest profession. Oh, God! She didn't want to go through with it! How could she? She was throwing everything down the drain. She would become dissolute, depraved. She would lead a sordid, secret life of prostitution. Could she live with herself . . . after? Help me, Lord!
Paul took her into his strong arms, solidly and unzipped her dress down the back, a hand following to feel the warm, softness of her; then, down his hand trailed to the smooth protuberances of her full buttocks to pull her loins in tight to his hardening penis. She felt it hot against her abdomen. Her body slumped against him. She did not resist; after all, that's why she was there: To entertain them! She smiled to herself. The word was a euphemism for something more base. She was going to get fucked . . . for money . . . money she had already spent, represented by the dresses, shoes and accessories in the closet of her bedroom. Was it worth it, now? She, instinctively, knew the answer, but her alcohol befogged brain would not let her examine it in the cold light of reason.
He found her mouth and kissed her long and hard, his tongue probing between her teeth and lips, tantalizingly. She moaned softly as he squeezed her buttocks, the wounds there painful under his exploring hands. Paul slipped her dress off her shoulders and let it slide down over the swell of her hips to the floor, then he maneuvered her slip straps over the smooth, bare flesh of her upper arms, slipping the flimsy garment down to drop on top of her dress on the floor. Next, he dexterously unsnapped her bra and hungrily kissed her breasts as her mounding bounty was released from its cloth prison.
Terri had, momentarily, forgotten about the other man, Hal. As she stepped clear of her slip and dress, she saw him seated on the edge of the King-size bed, and was startled to see that he was completely nude, his long, thick, penis spearing out from his loins, as he sat, relaxed, enjoying the strip-tease. She straightened up and turned, her face flushing as she tried to cover her breasts with her arm.
Paul gently removed her arm and turned her about to face Hal. "Look at these treasures we've found, Hal . . . aren't they beautiful?"
Hal's eyes gleamed with lewd anticipation. "Nice!" he said. "But, let's get her panties off . . . I'm an ass-man, myself!"
The taller man rid her of her panties, before she could react, whipping them down over her thighs in one swift movement. Dumbly, she stepped from them to stand in shameful nakedness before them. Her back was to Hal.
Hal whistled. "Christ! Who did that to you?" He was off the bed and standing behind her now, his hands reaching out to trace the red welts across the creamy smoothness of her full-rounded buttocks. She winced when he touched them.
Terri couldn't tell these two strange men how she came to have the wounds.
"Some . . . j-john . . . last night.. . " she lied, drawing on her new-found vocabulary to explain it.
"The son-of-a-bitch!" Hal snorted. "Some real weirdo!"
Paul looked at the wounds, too. "How could a guy do that to a beautiful doll, like you?"
"H-He tied me up!" she whimpered.
Taking her in his arms, Hal said, "You don't have to worry about us . . . we just like plain fucking . . . with a little cock and cunt sucking on the side."
Hal moved her to the bed where they sat on the edge of it. He took her in his arms and kissed her, probing deeply with his tongue into her mouth; then he pressed her back on the bed until she was lying beside him, his body pressed tightly against her, his rampant, hardened cock trapped between their bodies. She noticed that his silvery, blonde hair was natural, and that a small lock of it strayed, little-boy-like over his smooth forehead.
Now, Paul stretched out on the other side of her. She knew without looking that he was nude, as his warm, muscular body pressed up against her back, the hardness of his male member pressing deep into the dimpled smoothness of the base of her spine.
Terri couldn't believe that it was really happening to her. What was left of her reasoning mind tried to sort out her thoughts. She was so hopelessly trapped, now, that she could find no way out of the maze.
By common consent, all three moved to the center of the huge bed to lie lengthwise, now. Paul recaptured her lips as she lay on her back between the two nude, virile men, their cocks, on either side, pressing against the contours of her masterfully sculpted thighs. His hands roamed over her body, seeking all the wonders of her luscious body, and against her will she began to enjoy having this strange man run his hands over her. Again, momentarily, she had forgotten about Hal.
Suddenly, she felt his lips on her sensitive breasts. She started with surprise; Hal withdrew his mouth, for a moment, and Paul was whispering in her ear, "It's all right, Terri . . . Hal and I often work together. We know how to arouse a woman . . . the right way." His mouth captured hers, again, his tongue searching her oral cavern, voraciously, and she felt the warm moistness of Hal's mouth on her breasts, her nipples becoming hard and spiky, their areolas puckering pinkly as he sucked on them.
The spark of passion ignited by Paul's hands and tongue was being fanned, nurtured to glowing life by the seeking mouth on the voluptuous, sensate globes of her marvelous, white, satiny-smooth breasts. She couldn't resist the flashing fire that began to flame through her loins. Pressing her thighs close together, she tried to deny the heightening desire that seared her there. If she had to do this thing, and do it she must-she was convinced-there was no reason why she should enjoy it. Whores, she had heard, didn't really become involved with their Johns. They just did it for the money; it was a purely business transaction.
Hal began to kiss her belly, then his searching mouth was just above the soft, golden down of her pubic mound; his hands were reaching down to open her legs, gently but firmly. There was no doubt in her mind as to his intentions; as a matter-of-fact, she had almost expected it. Experts like these two men would, naturally, want to tantalize and tease at her sex, licking and sucking her into complete submission.
She groaned when Paul squeezed her breasts, rolling the hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger, then breaking the deep kiss to use his mouth on them, making them move back and forth, rapidly, between his lips while simultaneously maintaining a strong sucking pressure. It was a breathtaking sensation. She reached down to cup her breast to him, offering it to him, almost as a sacrifice, her other hand reaching up to caress his cheek. The sudden realization that she could not keep herself from becoming involved, from reacting . . . from enjoying and cherishing these two virile men at this moment, was a surprise to her. She had hoped that the alcohol and her determined detachment would keep her from becoming a participant in this sordid situation. Then: Why were both men giving her all of their attentions? Where was Gloria? Wasn't she supposed to be a part of this action . . . this entertainment?
Hal spread her legs apart, his head following, his mouth and teeth moving on the soft, ivory flesh of her inner thighs. He nipped, gently with his teeth, his mouth like fire on her as his lips followed, kissing warm and wetly; finally, his probing lips found the furrow of her womanhood, moist from the dews of her womb, and his tongue moved there, up and down the narrow slit, stabbing searchingly into the opening of her vagina, as her hips began to undulate, grinding in a tiny circle, underscoring her mounting desire. Oh, God! She was all warm and moist down there. She was responding to them, against her will! She couldn't let them subdue her completely like this! Oh, Ooh, their tongues are driving me crazy!
Then, below, Hal moved to kneel between her legs. With his thumbs on either side of the sparsely, blond hair-fringed cunt, he parted the lips of her vagina to expose its moist coralline depths. Secretions of viscous fluids formed there in droplets, a trickle of it beginning to run down the inner side of her thigh. His mouth descended, now, his tongue blazing a passage that soon the rest of him would follow. His lingual member, agile and moist moved in a tiny circle around the inside of her cuntal lips, eliciting a moaning mewl of pleasure from her lips, as at the same time, he felt her thrust her loins up toward him and her head began to thrash from side to side on the fluffy pillow.
Hal pushed his face down into her crotch, his tongue lashing into her open, waiting cunt, the strength of her upward thrusts signaling to him the fact that she was hot and almost ready to fuck. God damn! What a woman! He inhaled deeply of the heady perfume of her femaleness, and lost himself in the taste of her juices, their pungent flavor inciting his massive cock to rock-hard readiness. Deeper and deeper he plunged his tongue into her; her moans of pleasure coming from deep in her chest almost incessantly, her loins moving with him in rhythmic counterpoint to the lashing tongue deep in the pink depths of her cuntal passage.
Without let-up, without mercy, he moved his tongue in her, pausing to nip, occasionally, at the ragged, tender flanges with his teeth, but his thrusting tongue, mouth-fucking her with abandon moved her closer and closer to the desired level of desire. She was a blazing inferno of passion.
She could stand it no longer. Even though they had bought her body, she had to have them . . . had to have them both! Suddenly, she heaved her hips up off the bed, mashing her crotch hard into Hal's face and groaned, "Oh! OOooh! Yes! Yes! Yesssss!"
Hal withdrew his probing tongue and looked up at her, his eyes smiling, "Yes . . . what?" he asked. "You know the words!"
Terri remembered the litany Peter had insisted she learn. Did men need it? Was it something they needed to build their egos . . . to debase a woman by insisting that she ask to be fucked? All right! She would ask; she would beg . . . she would use those vile words!
"Fuck me!" she said, her voice unreal to her. "I w-want both of y-you to fuck me! I want your long, hard c-cocks in me . . . fucking me until I can't stand it!"
"All right, baby! You'll get it . . . but good!" he said. His face disappeared in the vee of her loins, again, his tongue this time, licking her clitoris, maddeningly. She felt herself slipping into insane pleasure, as the crashing sensations in her crotch built to mammoth waves of rapturous desire. She moved her hips in time to Hal's mouth and thrust her breasts upward into Paul's face, wanting them, wanting more and more. She knew that it was only a matter of minutes until she would explode in orgasmic frenzy, yet neither of them had touched her with their deliciously massive pricks. She knew both men were virile, their rampant members, rock-hard and ready. Oh, God! How she wanted them to fuck her, now!
Then, suddenly, disappointingly, the two men were exchanging places, their bodies sliding along her body, one on either side. She had wanted Hal . . . wanted him to start it; his mouth had made her so hot and ready for him! She felt frustrated, for the moment, as though they were only teasing her! Why didn't they get started on the fucking part? Dimly, she knew that she was involved, now, as much as she could be. She had lost that fight!
Her next sensation drew a delicious sigh from her, as she felt Paul move his hands over her cunt, a finger, then two . . . and finally three fingers moving in and out, gently, the opening stretching to receive them, and she reasoned that his purpose was to stretch her, in advance of his entry into her. How nice it felt!
Meanwhile, Hal was kissing her, the pungent taste of herself on his tongue that probed deep into her throat. She liked it, liked Hal . . . liked the way his hands moved on her body, caressing the melon-like mounds of her breasts. She took his tongue fully into her mouth and sucked on it, gently and slowly at first, then ever more violently. In a few moments, he forced her to trade, and he sucked and chewed on her tongue; then, as he tired of that, he began to suck on her lower lip. It was all so maddening . . . so tantalizing; her ecstasy was building to the breaking point. She began to imagine that she was a huge, impregnable, concrete dam, behind which was impounded millions of acre feet of green water . . . and the dam was about to break!
Paul moved her helpless and unresisting legs apart and wedged himself between them, running his hands caressingly over the smoothly tapering columns; then, a hand reached down to fondle his hardened and massive cock. He worked the foreskin back and forth several times over the swollen, reddish-purple head, a few drops of the thick, colorless, lubricating fluid spreading over the shiny, blood-engorged head. When he removed his hand his prick stood rampant and ready, its rigid length throbbing and jerking with his heart-beat. He was ready to take her, now. He watched Terri's undulating loins; her flowered-open, moist cunt beckoning to him, bidding him enter, and he knew that she was more than ready to receive him.
Now, he slid both his hands under her grinding buttocks, feeling the warm, soft flesh of them, the muscles working in his palms, as he spread her wide; then, he moved his body in position over her, the pulsating head, of his rock-hard penis brushing and teasing the coral vaginal opening.
"OOooh . . . " she moaned, "now! Fuck me, now!"
Her obscene words were like a spur to him. He lifted her hips, pulling them toward him, forcefully, the bulbous head of his hard cock going into her moist, hot channel, the elastic flesh of the cuntal opening stretching even more than his three-fingered entry had earlier. He stopped short, allowing only the giant head to penetrate for the time being. He felt her loins move toward him, as her cunt tried to absorb more of him into the seething, sensate passage.
He squeezed and massaged her hips, and widespread thighs and shoved his tumescent prick slowly and with inexorable pressure deeper and deeper into her, feeling the contracting ring of muscles in the walls of her moist vagina sucking him, tantalizingly, setting off sparks of sensation in his member that drove him to distraction; then, with a final flexing of his hips, he drove the final few inches of his monstrous cudgel deep, deep up into her writhing belly, the head flicking past her cervix to lodge solidly against the back wall of her vaginal vault. He flexed, expanding it inside her, and was gratified to feel her countering contraction, the walls of her cunt moving on him, caressingly, clasping him in a sheath of wildly sensate flesh that fit him better than a pair of quality gloves. Meanwhile, his hands moved on her, incessantly, caressing and massaging her quivering thighs, her smooth, flat belly, his thumbs tracing down the hollows of her flexing groins; finally, a hand moved down between them to search in the writhing crack of her moon-like buttocks for the secret puckered and tiny hole that nestled there. Moistening a finger in the copious, viscid liquid that dribbled from her cuntal opening, he moved it down to probe into her warm, spongy back passage. He found it and pressed into it, slowly and tenderly. Her body jerked once, then her trembling loins screwed down on the finger, absorbing it, fully, until his palm was flat against the flexing muscles of her white, sculpted ass-cheeks. He heard her groan of pain and satisfaction.
"Oh! OOOOOoooh!" she moaned. "That hurts . . . so good!"
Terri's mouth worked with the rapture of her passion. She felt every manipulation of Paul's below; while above, Hal's mouth and hands were driving her insane, his tongue in her mouth almost imitating Paul's cock in her searing cunt. Her breasts, under his hands, seemed to be a mass of exposed, sexually aroused nerves, nerves that seemed to be inter-connected to all parts of her body, a sophisticated communications network, specially designed for the transmission of sex sensations. Uncontrollably, she moved her breasts, against the hard muscles of his chest, and her arms went around him, pulling him close to her, her taloned fingers tearing and scratching at his back.
Within her, every fiber of her being responded to the two men, the fires building in her loins roaring out of control, consuming her, goading her to complete submission.
Suddenly, she could stand it no longer. She had to move on to the next phase. She had to have Paul's cock moving in her, surging in and out, wantonly, recklessly, the hard length of him spearing her, relentlessly. Oh, God! I've got to have his delicious cock fucking me . . . hard!
When she had felt Paul's massive prick entering her, spreading and stretching her pussy, pausing, momentarily, then sliding on into her fully, she could have died from the pure joy of it, the sensations of his expanding and contracting shaft eliciting involuntary movements of her own, her cunt acting on its own to suck him up, full length, into her quivering belly.
Then, as she felt his practiced, expert hands on her, bringing her body to life, his finger slipping into her anus, sending welcome pain to her, the thought flashing through her mind: How fast she had learned, the pain making her jerk, involuntarily, biting Hal's lips, pushing her tongue deep into his throat, she had hung on for hear life, trembling from head to foot with anticipation, and she wanted them. Oh, God! How she wanted it.. . needed it, her greed for both of them rising like monster snake-coils in her body-mind.
Paul knew that she was ready, that she was ready to accept his lust-inflated cock into her, poundingly . . . that she wanted the length and breadth of his massive cock to rock her, plumb the depths of her cunt, to the core of her very being, rocking her with sexual power to bring her to the heights of ecstasy, and he was ready, too, the ache in his swollen cock almost too much for him to bear.
Slowly, then, with long, smooth strokes, he began to piston smoothly in and out of her moist, clasping cuntal passage, not grinding or ramming, but a steady stroking motion that did not hit all the way to the bottom, yet. He didn't want to rush himself, rush her; he stroked her, waiting for her response that he knew would come, shortly . . . then he would give her everything he had! But not yet! Wait!
Her breath came, deeply, her eyes began to glaze as the sensations in her loins became a raging fire, unquenchable except in soaring orgasm; her hips, began to move upward to him, her cunt slithering up his shaft, trying to absorb the whole of it deep up into her quivering belly, then, she ground her hips, back into the mattress on his up-stroke, his penis coming almost all the way out.
Now! Paul could wait no longer; she was responding, ready, fucking back; with a deep-throated grunt, he flicked his hips and drove his cock powerfully into her, ramming with all his might, until his sperm-filled testicles smacked tight up against the tightly clenched crevice of her buttocks and his pubic bones crashed painfully into hers. He poised there for a moment savoring the delightful sensations in his loins and hearing her groans of helplessness up into Hal's mouth.
Hal broke the kiss of deep passion and shifted his body on the bed, straddling her chest, his buttocks, crowding down against the heaving, white mounds of her breasts. The shocks of Paul's pounding cock came to him through her body, as she heaved her loins up to counterpoint his driving rush into her. He reached out to her head, putting his hand behind the base of her skull and lifted it up, slightly. She opened her glazing eyes to look directly at his long, thick, lust-inflated prick. In spite of her own lust, she tried to turn her head aside. Oh, No! Dear God! What is he going to make me do?
He held her head firm in his hand and moved his cock to press against her red-lipstick-covered lips. Crooning in a low voice to her, he said, "Baby . . . I want you to suck it . . . good! Open your jaw . . . turn your lips in over your teeth and take it into your mouth!"
"Oh, God, no!" she squealed. "I've never . . . "
"Never sucked a cock . . . ? " he queried.
"N-No!"
"Every good whore does . . . how come . . . ? "
"I-I'm not a-a whore!" she croaked.
"Then what the hell am I paying you for . . . if you're not!"
Oh! I forgot! I forgot why I'm here! I am a whore, now! I'm a whore . . . a whore, a whore! God! How can I ever live with myself, again?
"All right!" she groaned. "I'm a whore . . . but this is the f-first t-time . . . "
"So, you suck cock! O.K.? "
The shiny cowl of his hardened prick brushed against her lips, and she opened them, reluctantly, as he moved forward to enter the soft, spongy head into the warm moist cavern of her mouth. She ovaled her lips to receive it, and heeding his directions, folded her lips over her teeth, as his rampant prick came into her oral cavern, a huge presence that made her feel like gagging. She controlled the feeling with an effort and moved her tongue experimentally, licking at the hard shaft of flesh, then swirling her tongue around the head. The pungent flavor was not unfavorable to her; she began, after a few moments to feel somewhat comfortable. She even sucked in on it several times.
Below, Paul rammed into her extra hard; her body jerked, her head moving forward, and without warning, her whole mouth was filled to bursting with Hal's pulsating cock. She closed her eyes and sucked, desperately, while Paul drubbed into her cunt below furiously, the wonderful hardness of his penis, the power of his strokes almost overwhelming her with fiery pleasure. Paul began to fuck faster and faster, his hard shaft moving in and out with the ease of a well-oiled piston, grinding his pelvis into hers with every inward plunge, and she could feel the bulbous head flick past her cervix, painfully-a pain that turned to instant pleasure as she felt herself filled beyond reason.
As he thrust into her, Paul used his hands, pulling her ass up close and tight, the other hand, a finger still embedded in her anus, drubbed in and out in rhythm with the larger phallus in her pussy. He could feel the presence of his finger through the thin separating wall of flesh; occasionally, he would move the finger in such a way that the extra bulge would come into contact with the sensitive underside of his blood-engorged cock. The sensations were wild . . . unbelievable.
The fiery dam in his balls would have to break, soon. He could feel that his orgasm was near, the ache in his prick was becoming almost unbearable. Suddenly, he pulled his finger from her back passage; there was a faint hiss and a slight popping sound as it came clear; then, looking down between them, at the straining loins, he watched with fascination as the hard pole of his male flesh cleaved her cunt, coming out ivory-white, glistening with moisture, pulsing . . . alive, then sliding back into the coral depths of her cunt, buried to the hilt until none of the tube of hardened flesh could be seen.
Above, Hal pressed his cock deeper and deeper into her mouth, the thought that it was too long and thick for her gave him an extra thrill of pleasure. He was no sadist, but the pride he felt concerning his genitals led him to bizarre lengths, at times. The tingling sensations in his balls that demanded more of the same, incited him to thrust his lusty prick further and further into her mouth, until the very root of the hard shaft of flesh had disappeared completely. He looked down to watch the hardness of him slip into her red mouth, watched as her lipsticked lips crept over him, eating him, devouring him completely, and his hair-covered balls were pressing against her chin. It was all in her mouth! Damn! It's part way down her throat, too!
Terri choked momentarily. She tried to move her head to force him to withdraw that massive rod from her mouth, but he held her head, tight and straight, keeping it deep in her throat. He could feel the motions of swallowing she made, and its sensations were wild and crazy. Then, he too knew that he would come to a spewing orgasm soon. The load of semen in his testicles demanded release. God damn! I've got to fuck her in the mouth!
Hal began to plunge in and out of her mouth, fucking her there as though it were another cunt, matching the rhythm that Paul had established as he rammed deeply in and out of her cuntal passage, below.
Suddenly, Terri surrendered to the salacious sensations of the double ravishment. She reached up to grasp Hal about the hips to pull him in closer to her, consciously, trying at the same time to relax her throat muscles, so that he could go into her deeply, easily. Her feeling of revulsion, at first, when Hal's cock entered her mouth, almost made her sick. It had been hard for her to breathe . . . even to think straight. Then, with the growing excitement in her crotch as Paul had thrust into her voraciously moist cunt between her widespread legs, she had begun to accept more of Hal's huge prick into her oral cavern; finally, she had been able to take all of it deep into her throat. To herself, it was an unexplainable paradox. That which she had reviled she had come to accept . . . even to like it . . . yes, she even loved it now, and wanted it! Dazedly, she wondered whether or not the two virile men, together, would tear her apart as they thrust with ever more powerful strokes into the two orifices of her body. Two men! She was actually being fucked by two men at the same time. Again, the thought crossed her mind: Where was Gloria? Even then she could never have guessed Gloria's activities during the time she was coupled with the two men. The soft click of her camera shutter as she recorded on super-sensitive film the progressively lewd action on the bed would not have been heard by the dazed girl. Gloria was following the previous orders given her by Pauline Riggs, and of course, the red-head always did what Pauline demanded; besides, she was a slave to the agile tongue that Pauline used to send her to rapturous heights of ecstasy and to keep her submissive to her will.
Now, to Terri, the mounting ecstasy at the very core of her being began to explode within her. She could feel the coming orgasm. It wouldn't be long, now! Soon! Soon! Then, she was aware that Paul was almost ready to come spewingly into her hungry cunt. He was pounding into her like a jack-hammer out of control, his long, thick, tumescent prick buffeting her with a power she had never yet experienced.
Not for an instant, had she ever thought that Hal would ejaculate directly into her mouth. Had she thought about it, before, she would have been instantly, ill . . . repulsed, but he did! He came, his semen jetting in scalding cascades of viscous white sperm, forcing her to swallow, again and again to clear it from her throat.
She was helpless, out of control, as her own orgasm came to her soaringly, the rapture of the moment dimming her eyesight, muffling her ears and there was nothing in the world for her but cock and cunt . . . and cock and mouth. COCK! CUNT! Oh, God! I'm cumming! I'm cumming . . . but I can't scream it . . . with his cock in my mouth! Oh, oh, OOOOooooooh! AAAA A AAA AAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!
Below, her loins heaved against Paul, squirming and jerking quiveringly, expectantly, up against him, waiting for the moment when he would explode inside her. Faster and faster, harder, longer, Paul slaved, pistoning her, smoothly, until with a groan his cock hosed his milk-white and viscid cum deep into the heated depths of her cuntal passage, splashing with force against the back wall, as his member pumped it out, wildly.
She clutched at Hal when she felt herself, finally, coming to climax; she would have screamed out, wantonly, with her pleasure as she felt that great dam break in her, but for the massive throbbing presence in her throat of Hal's spewing cock. He pressed his organ into her even more deeply, hurting her lips as they were mashed against her teeth, and the deliciously pungent flavor of his semen splashed-into her mouth to be swallowed.
All three came together, within seconds of each other; the two men greedily clutched her to them, rubbing, massaging and smoothing her with their hands, their great cocks boring into her, until at last, slowly, they released her, the heights of their orgasms subsiding, their virile members pulsing less and less and becoming flaccid, and they rolled their bodies away from her at almost the same time. Paul leaned backwards; his deflating cock popping out of her satiated and sperm-filled vagina, as he moved to lie alongside her, again, and said, "I've had some good ones, in my time . . . but, baby, you're the most!"
Hal moved to her other side and groaned, "Christ! I'm turned inside out!" His hand trailed, languidly, tracing the marvelous contours of her coral-tipped breast.
She was too overcome to speak. She had had a wonderful experience. Never, in her wildest dreams would she have thought that she would have intercourse with two men at the same time.
Then, in the midst of her joy, she remembered, the memory flooding back. She was not there primarily to satisfy herself, but to entertain; she was the courtesan, the prostitute . . . the WHORE! She was a full-fledged Whore! Unbidden, a tear trailed down her cheek. She rubbed it away with the back of her hand; fortunately, neither of the men observed it.
Paul and Hal lit cigarettes and smoked, relaxed and amiable. After a few moments they arose and began dressing. Terri lay on the bed, naked and alone. She felt a chill and pulled a sheet over her lush body.
Hal took out his wallet and began to extract bills.
"Terri, baby," he said, "You try harder.. . you ought to be worth a little more!" He exchanged glances with Paul as he handed Terri a fifty-dollar bill. Numbly, she took it, not even looking at it, as Paul matched Hal, placing another fifty on the first.
Paul looked down at her and smiled. "I'd like to spend a night with you . . sometime, soon! O.K.? "
"All right.. . " she answered.
"Damn! You beat me to it, Paul!" Hal interjected. "But, I'm greedy . . . I want her for a whole weekend!"
Terri smiled, wanly, "All right . . . whenever you say . . . but I'll have to . . . m-make arrangements . . . in advance.. . " she lied, not having the vaguest idea of how she could possibly get away from George for a weekend of whoredom and debauchery.
Both men kissed her a tender goodbye, leaving her on the bed with two fifty-dollar bills clutched in her hand. When they were gone, she looked dumbly at the money and burst into great sobs of sorrow . . . a sorrow so profound that words could not possibly describe her misery.
Gloria, the red-head came into the bedroom, after Paul and Hal had gone. She saw the two fifties. "You understand, don't you Terri that this is a fifty percent split.. . ? "
Terri nodded, dumbly, and extended her hand. Gloria extracted one of the bills and said, casually, "There's a couple more Johns due in about twenty minutes . . . so rustle your ass and get yourself ready for them!"
". . . But, I thought. . . "
"That was all for today.. . ? " Gloria laughed. "Hardly! After that, there'll be two more . . . beyond that I'm not sure, although, Pauline could be sending some more, later.. . "
"You . . . ? "
"I'll take my share, from now on . . . unless there are others who want two for one, like Paul and Hal," she explained.
"Are there m-many like that. . . "
"A few . . . then there are those guys who want two women! There're more like that . . . they sometimes like to watch while the two gals eat each other . . . things like that.. . " the red head told her matter-of-factly.
"Oh . . . ? " Terri questioned. "Can I-I have another martini?"
"Sure . . . if you think it'll help."
"It will!" Terri assured her.
". . . But, just take it easy! Guys don't like it with a sloppy drunk woman!"
"I just don't want to feel," Terri said, miserably.
"Check!" Gloria said, her eyes agleam. "I understand . . . maybe we could . . . you and I . . . have our own little party . . . after."
CHAPTER 7
Terri never knew how she was able to get through the remainder of the afternoon and the early evening hours. Through a self-imposed alcoholic haze, she dimly remembered a long succession of men. She was fucked by at least four more men, mostly nearing middle-age, obviously successful, somewhat wealthy, well-dressed, neat, clean, but running to slight paunch and flabbiness. All were married, disillusioned and disenchanted with their wives, and were looking for stimulating sex and lost youth. She fucked and sucked, even allowing one of them, paunchier and older, to sodomize her, her feeling of complete debasement and worthlessness leading her to agree, readily.
It was 7:30 before she could leave the apartment with Gloria who drove her back to THE CONTINENTAL so she could pick up Peter's car. She wasn't able to leave sooner, because the lovely red-head had made good on her intimation of a private lesbian party after the last John had departed.
Terri had been too tired, too emotionally drained to object, but when Gloria's tantalizing tongue had driven her up the walls, she had exploded in a phantasm of orgiastic excess. She had responded in kind, the red-head guiding her, teaching her how to arouse another woman and bring her to ecstatic heights.
On the drive through town, Terri's senses began to return as the effects of the gin began to wear off. She was cold sober as she began her drive on the freeway, eastward toward San Bernardino in Peter's car. There was one more rendezvous she must make. Jack Gordon was waiting for her. Then cynically, the thought flashed across her mind: I suppose he'll want me t-to make l-love to him, after w-we . . . She couldn't make herself think about the grisly task even.
But, her thoughts rambled on: I'll never be the same . . . after today. I've been changed . . . changed into a whore in one day! It's impossible! I'd never have believed it!
The hundred and thirty dollars in her purse was real enough. She would have to believe it. That's what she had taken away with her from Gloria's apartment.
. . . But, Jack . . . Jack Gordon! He's a black man . . . a black man who killed . . . trying to protect me from the very thing I've just been doing . . . except none of them wanted to whip me . . . t-to get their k-kicks! Could I let him f-fuck me, now . . . tonight? Oh, God! I don't know! I owe him something . . . Peter could have hurt me seriously . . . disfigured me . . . or maimed me! And I am grateful to Jack! He didn't intend to hurt Peter . . . only tried to make him stop h-hurting me! Oh!! ? ? I'm so mixed up! I don't know what to think . . . about anything!
Following Jack's directions, she turned off the freeway at the Cal Poly campus and followed the winding grades northward towards the lake. She drove carefully and slowly, keeping a sharp watch for the old, battered truck that the black gardener drove. She found it, easily, parked just off the road near one of the locked entrances to the recreational area. She parked behind the pickup and Jack detached himself from the dark shadows of nearby trees and sauntered over to the car, his senses alert to anything amiss.
He leaned down and said, softly, "Anybody follow you?"
"Wh-Why no! I don't think so!"
"Good! Follow me to a place I found!"
He was gone, striding away to clamber into the pick up. The motor roared into coughing life, and he eased it back onto the road to drive ahead for about a half mile. There he parked off the-pavement and waited for her to follow suit.
Terri opened the door and got out, her heart pounding with fear and a morbid excitement.
Jack used a small flashlight to peer into the inside of the car. "Leave anything of yours in here?" he asked.
"N-No . . . " Terri answered, checking to make sure she had her purse.
Then, she watched in fascination as the big black man restarted the car and maneuvered it around until it was pointing into the darkness. She didn't know what lay out there, but she assumed it must be the waters of the lake.
Jack wiped the car of his fingerprints as well as hers, then rummaging in the bed of the pickup, he scraped back a cover of leaves and lifted out the blanket-covered body of Peter Marklin, her step-son. Carrying his grisly burden to the souped-up car, he unwrapped the body and placed it in the driver's seat. With a handkerchief covered hand, he started the engine, opened the hood, placed a sugar cube that would dissolve in the water in the accelerator linkage, bringing the motor to a full-throated roar, closed the hood and returned to the driver's side of the car. There, he adjusted the safety belt around the corpse and placed its lifeless hands on the steering wheel; next he released the emergency brake and closed the door.
Terri stole a glance at the dead boy's face. He looked quite natural, she decided, but could not bring herself to dwell on the thing they were doing. She turned and walked toward the pickup truck, her eyes blinded by quick tears.
It has to be for the best! Oh, God! Please let it be!
Jack stood clear of the car, ready to leap out of the way, if necessary. His hand went out to the shift lever; he yanked it hard into drive. The car's wheels spun, kicking up gravel and dust, as it shot forward for ten feet and arched out into space. There was a mighty splash followed by an eerie stillness. Jack walked to the edge of the steep cliff and looked down to make sure. The car containing the corpse of Peter Marklin was nowhere to be seen.
Her ear-splitting scream speared into the blackness.
"OOOooooh! Peeeeeeeterrrrrrrrrr?"
Suddenly, she was in Jack's arms; great sobs of pain, sorrow and relief wracked her body.
"Mrs. Marklin! Be quiet! Somebody might hear!" he warned.
She could not hear . . . would not hear, and the desperate black man did the only thing he knew to do. He slapped her full in the face, commanding, "Shut up!"
Startled, shocked, she cringed away from him, a hand going to her face in disbelief of the fact that he had struck her. She turned and fled, blindly, into the darkness.
Jack caught her within ten paces and pinioned her arms to her side, holding her from behind. She struggled silently in his arms, only guttural grunts emitting from her throat, but her strength was as nothing compared to his, as he held her tightly and whispered in her ear with urgency, "Stop it! We've got to get the hell out of here . . . right now! If we're caught.. . they'll pin a murder rap . . . on both of us!"
MURDER!
Oh, God! Help me!
She slumped back in his arms, drained and helpless; then, she turned to face him, in the circle of his arms . . . muscular arms, the arms of a strong and virile man . . . the arms of a man who with the strength of those same arms had killed . . . for her.
MURDER! He murdered Peter.. .for me!
A primeval lust was suddenly in her . . . a desire to give herself to this beautiful, black man. At that moment in time there was nothing more she wanted . . . and the knowledge of her desire was frightening. She whimpered deep in her throat, a low, animal-like moan that defied description or interpretation. She moved her hips, rotating them, undulantly, against his loins. He was hard . . . hardening rapidly. She raised her head, parting her lips, her tongue coming out to lick them wetly, in mute, universal signal, offering her lips to be kissed, and by inference her body to be used, sexually, the undulant hips making it specific. She wanted to be fucked!
Jack was shocked but pleased. Her signals were not wasted on him; the tingling sensations, beginning in his scrotum and expanding warmly up into his penis where the concupiscence began to swell and harden his cock into instant rigidity, caused it to jerk, spasmodically, against her grinding loins, sending his own involuntary signals back to her, letting her know of his quick response, of his readiness. She wants it! She wants me to fuck her! Oh, shit! I never thought it would ever happen to me! Me! A black man . . .fucking a white woman!
. . .But, not now! Man! Not now! We've got to get the fuck out of here! Now! Now, God damn it . . . or there'll be nothing but a big shit-pile of nothing!
Brusquely, firmly, he spoke to her, "We've got to get in my truck and split, now! While we're riding along . . . you can think it over . . . change your mind if you want to. If you do, I'll understand . . . and no apologies . . . and we'll split.. . go on our own ways . . . O.K.? "
He meant every word he had spoken.
Dumbly, she allowed him to put her in the passenger seat of the old pick-up truck. He picked up the blankets and made a few passes at the tracks laid down in the gravel by Peter's car before it made its plunge into the lake. Satisfied that the car's tracks would be difficult to see, he got into the driver's seat of the old truck and kicked the ancient motor into spitting life. Then, driving carefully, always within the posted speed limits he drove back down to the freeway, turned east toward the grape vineyards, turning finally on a lateral road connecting to the old highway to the south, thence to a dirt track that led deep into one of the extensive vineyards. He braked to a stop, turned out the lights and sat back, relaxed in his seat, a great sigh escaping from him.
"Well, it's done!" he said. "But it'll only be a matter of time . . . a few days, maybe a week, before he's found . . . "
Faltering, she asked, "Wh-What will you do . . . n-now?"
He was pensive for a moment. "I hadn't figured it out, yet.. . but in a few days, I'll probably light out for San Francisco. There's nobody . . . or nothing to keep me in L.A."
"D-Do you h-have to go . . . run away . . . ? "
"No! I don't have to run . . . but it might be best if I do. The fuzz is going to be asking a lot of questions . . . and I'll be a lot harder to find in San Francisco . . . " he explained.
"Jack," she said his name, softly, "I haven't changed my mind." Her hand crept out to find his thigh, her hand trailing upward to his groin to find the hardness of his sex. She was not disappointed. It was hard and throbbing, jerking against the rough material of his trousers. She traced its outline with her fingers, then grasped it in her tiny hand.
The pressure of her hand on his pulsating cock was almost more than he could take. He had the impression that if there was one more movement of her hand he would come on the instant.
"Let's get more comfortable!" he said, thickly, not trusting his voice. "I'll get a blanket from the back."
She released his cock reluctantly, surprised at her own boldness in initiating the sexual stimulation, opened the truck's door and stepped down into the sandy soil of the vineyard. She heard Jack rummaging in the bed of the truck for the blanket. He found it, and shook it, moved a few feet out among the heavy-leafed vines and spread the cloth on the ground.
Terri stood, thoughtfully, watching him. She had gone this far, she decided; therefore, she might as well go the whole way. She would do everything she could to make this a wild, orgiastic session; Then, she knew that she had never felt that way before . . . sex had always been less than enjoyable for her, in the past-especially with her husband, George-but her new-found eroticism, her extended knowledge, forced upon her within such a short space of time . . . and a self-knowledge that burned, searingly, into her brain, led her to the decision she had just made. She would fuck this virile black man, bound to her by a macabre twist of fate; she would fuck him, wildly, wantonly, with everything she had, offering him the whole of her for their mutual enjoyment. The lewd salaciousness of her thoughts began to tingle through her as she remembered her hand upon his cock, moments, before; she had found him huge, and the thought of that length and breadth, felt through his pants gave her a delicious, anticipatory thrill that sparked, glowingly, in her crotch.
She could barely see him, as he moved in the darkness, kneeling, now, to further straighten the blanket on the ground. Leaning back against the fender, she removed her shoes and stockings, then reaching back, she unzipped her dress and stepped out of it; her slip followed, and she stood in only panties and bra. She hesitated a moment before deciding that she would present herself completely naked to him. The effect on him would be more stimulating, she reasoned, remembering that he had already peeped upon her in the privacy of her own bedroom. The fact that he had no longer bothered her in the least. Without hesitation, she unsnapped her bra and removed it, freeing her voluptuous breasts to the soft, evening breeze. Then, she wriggled out of her flimsy white panties, adding them to the pile of her clothing on the fender of the pick-up truck.
Above, a lazy sliver of yellow moon peeped down through a hole in the high, scudding clouds, revealing the alabaster whiteness of her body, sculpted by the master hand of nature, her high, proud breasts showing in curved light and shadow.
Jack stood to his feet, his task with the blanket finished; he had forced himself to do the simple job well, stalling to allow her time to think . . . or to act. He would not force his attentions upon her. It had to be of her own free-will . . . or there would be nothing between them at all. He had been overjoyed when she had told him that she had not changed her mind, and when she had fondled his hardening penis, he had felt like jumping out of his skin. Shit! This can't be happening to me! Pretty soon I'll wake up and find out it was all a dream . . . a black man's hopeless dream!
He looked back toward his truck and gasped for pure joy. God! She was standing there, completely nude, and he knew that her words had been translated into action. She had meant it. She would be his to fuck, as he realized that she was, symbolically, offering up the whole of herself to him.
Playing her new role of the complete wanton, she walked toward him, across the loamy sand, feeling its rough, pebbly texture on the soles of her feet. She held her head aloft, her eyes looking at him, steadily, and her hands came up to cup her breasts, in provocative sexuality.
Jack watched her, marveling again at the vision of pure loveliness that was her, remembering that he had watched her, before with only a wishful hope. Now, before his eyes the hope was becoming a reality. Involuntarily, his cock jumped, pushing against his trousers begging for release.
Swiftly, he stripped off his shirt and undershirt, his muscles rippling under the shiny black skin that reflected back to her in the dim moon-glow; then, he loosened his belt, zipped down his fly and shrugged his pants down over his lean, muscular legs. He kicked off his shoes, and standing on one leg, alternately, stripped off his socks. Something held him back, however, from removing his own shorts. Was it modesty, or a desire that it should be she who removed them? If she removed them for him, it would be the final signal to him that she really intended to give herself completely to him.
He stood, tall, lean and powerful, waiting for her to reach him; he had made up his mind that he would not touch her first. It had to be-all of it-for now, her show!
In pristine, unashamed nakedness she stepped on the blanket, feeling its wooly softness, and took the final step to stand before him. She looked up into his face and said, softly, "Here I-I am . . . "
His strong arms went around her, as she leaned in tight to his strong body and tilted her head up, her mouth opening, slightly, her moist lips inviting his kiss. He tilted his head down and captured her soft, red lips. His kiss was hard, meaningful, and he was surprised when her bold, searching tongue slipped out to encircle his lips then burst through his teeth, probingly, asking to be sucked. Her tongue was like a writhing, coiling snake in his mouth. He gasped with the power of the sensations generated in him. Below, his majestic cock leaped against her avidly undulating loins.
Terri felt the hardened penis move against her through the confining cloth of his shorts. She broke the kiss and said, "I've got to see it and feel it!"
She knelt on the blanket, reached for his shorts and pulled them down to his ankles. His prick stood spearing out from his body, long, thick and massive, blacker than the rest of him, as it rose from its roots among a mass of curly, black hair with the heavy testicles swinging freely below.
A gasp of disbelief escaped her. It was huge . . . a veritable monster of a cock . . . larger than, she had ever imagined a man's penis could be.
"Oh! It's so big!"
He grinned in the darkness, pleased with his attributes.
With trembling hands she reached out to touch it, gently, her fingers tracing its length and circumference, one hand going, finally, to his sac to caress the large, egg-shaped balls they held, while her other hand, tiny and white tried to hold his giant cock. Her hand would not reach around it, as she worked the thick foreskin back to reveal the purplish, bloated head.
Jack, standing above her, could not wait; he put a hand on either side of her head and moved-his hips forward, bringing it to her lips. Involuntarily, her lips rounded, her mouth opened and she slipped her red lips over the spongy, throbbing corona. She sucked it hard two or three times, then her tongue began to lave it, running all around the head, until, finally, she split the tip of it with the probing, agile nib of her tongue. The delicious torment was too much for Jack. He moved his hips back several inches and withdrew his penis from her mouth.
"That's enough of that . . . for a while!" he croaked.
"All right," she smiled and lay back on the blanket, her knees still under her, her feet supporting her buttocks, and her thighs spreading wide open to expose her cunt to him, completely.
Jack's breath sucked in, sharply, from the sudden excitement in him, for the obscene position she had taken. She leaned back on her elbows looking up at him; her lips were wet and parted in a provocative little smile of shameless anticipation, and her roundly firm breasts rose and fell with her own sexual excitation, their coral nipples distending and spiking out like a pair of ripe berries.
He fell to his knees before the open gates of her shrine. His mouth watered as he gazed hungrily at the moist, tight cuntal opening between her wide-spread thighs and noted that she rotated it, sensuously, expectantly, waiting for him to do as he would there.
Her husky voice came to him, . .Now, you c-can eat m-me for a while . . . "
"I used to dream about this," he told her, "after I'd watched you . . . in your bedroom . . . "
"Y-You watched m-me.. . ? " she said, pretending shock.
"Yes!" He reached out to place the palms of his hands flat against the inside of her thighs, his thumbs resting on the soft, moist flanges of her pussy; then lying back, flat on her back, she shifted her legs to place her feet flat on the blanket, her knees flexed upward and splayed to either side.
She moaned, audibly, as he spread her cunt wide, preparing to use his tongue on her, the whole of her slit exposed to him. Pursing his lips, he blew a stream of warm, moist air directly into her. She shivered deliciously.
"I should also tell you . . . I used to jack-off while I was watching you," he confessed.
"J-Jack-off. . . ? " she questioned.
"Masturbation . . . I used my hand to get relief!"
"Oh," she said, understanding him instantly. "But, now there'll be no need of that . . . you've got the real thing!"
She moaned, again, as he tantalized her with another stream of air from his rounded lips, directed at her cunt.
"Oh, do it, Jack, p-please," she murmured between passion-clenched teeth. "Go on . . . and eat me!"
With a rapidly expelled sigh of pleasure, followed by a guttural, throaty, noise, he moved forward, sinking the full length of his' long, slippery tongue, snake-like into the hot, throbbing moistness of her waiting, expectant pussy.
Terry moaned, ecstatically, as her buttocks jerked, involuntarily, as his warm, spiraling tongue probed into her, rotating wildly against the soft ridges of the lining of her throbbing, aching vagina.
"OOooh!" she groaned. "That feels so gooooooood!"
Her pleasure-sounds came from her throat incessantly, as he withdrew to lick upward, the soft tip, circling the quivering, erect clitoris, in its hooded shrine at the top of her female furrow. Then, his lips closed around it, and he sucked the miniature phallus up into his mouth, his tongue continuing its maddening licking against the pulsing, pink bud. She groaned with mounting sensuality as the wildly searching tip of his lashing tongue worked its way up and down the narrow slit. From the lower belly, down it went, pressuring its way over the elastic-rimmed cuntal opening and into the crevice of her flexing buttocks, where it paused, briefly, to pay homage to the puckered brown anus nestled, secretly, there.
Desperate hands clawed at the kinky, wooly thatch of his hair, attempting to guide his face to the palpitating opening of her vagina. He grunted as he slithered his tongue into the moist pinkness of her soft flesh, and she shifted her hips to raise her crotch to him, using her hands to press his mouth firmly over the tight, fiery hole of her cuntal passage.
His rounded, sucking lips were glued to the clasping, viscous orifice, and he thrust his tongue deep up into it, causing her soft, white thighs to tighten about the sides of his black, bobbing head. He felt the satiny warm flesh of her passage pulsing and contracting around his t e a s i n g I y probing tongue. Again, purling mewls of pleasure came from her throat.
"Oh! OOOoooh, Jack, wait!" she chanted. "Let me up . . . I w-want to suck you . . . at the same time!"
Jack lifted his head, and she rose to her knees, pushing him backward by the shoulders until he was stretched out full-length on the ground, lying back on the blanket, his black skin shining in the weak, silver rays of the waning moon, his thick and long-hard cock standing up at an acute angle, up along his flat, muscular abdomen.
She turned about, then, to come down over him, straddling him on all fours, her knees snug against his ribs on either side of his body in the classic sixty-nine position, her beautiful face directly above his rampant, throbbing cock, her sculpted, full-rounded buttocks spread so that the flowered-open, pink furrow of her loins was lowered within a tongue's length of his hungry mouth.
Jack groaned as her fingernails scratched lightly over the length of his rock-hard prick and she moved the skin back and forth, massaging and stroking it with gentle movements, while her other hand slipped down to cradle his balls, lovingly. He groaned, again, between clenched teeth and thrust his loins upward to her, until finally he felt the warm, moistness of her ovaled lips slide down, lasciviously, over the throbbing, aching head of his blood-engorged and sensitive cock.
He looked down through the arch of her thighs and saw her round, melon-breasts hanging down, stark-white, against the black of his stomach, the spiky nipples brushing against him, tantalizingly. In the darkness, below, her face was in dark shadow, but he could imagine the thick length of his prick absorbed up into her mouth, her face contorted, prettily, as she sucked and licked in wild abandon.
Suddenly, the white ass-cheeks above his face, rotated, waggling for his attention, as below, she increased the swirling motion of her tongue around the bloated, spongy head of his jerking prick.
His hands went up to catch at her hip-bones and drew her flexing buttocks down to him, again, plunging his long, lashing tongue deep up into the moist walls of her vagina, eliciting a deep, humming vibration from her throat that communicated itself to his cock buried in her voraciously sucking mouth, and she screwed her cunt down onto his wildly probing oral member, beginning to move up and down it in a steady fucking rhythm.
With his loins tensing and jerking, he began to move, sawing his massive rod of erectile flesh in and out of her rounded, sucking lips, and he realized that she was taking all of his thick length, absorbing it up into her throat. The rubbery head throbbed and jumped with every nerve-tingling tongue-lick on every out-stroke, the smooth, moist feel of her lips sliding along his length on every in-stroke. Her breasts danced up and down on his torso, the ripe-berry nipples alternately pressing into him then brushing up and away to dangle freely in the evening air washing over them.
The pressure of the need for release began to grow in his testicles. It wouldn't be long, now, before his prick would hose his spewing sperm, thick and warm into her mouth, unless he could get his cock into her cunt where he wanted it. Somehow, he felt a little cheated. He didn't want just a blow-job, this first time, with Terri, the first white woman he had ever touched in his life.
It was almost as though she had been reading his mind, for suddenly, she stopped, raising her head and allowing his jerking penis to slide from her voracious, red-lipped mouth. Crawling forward, quickly, she rose to her knees, her back still to him, poising the clasping lips of her widespread cunt just above his throbbing, aching cock; then, she reached back to grasp the stiff, black rod of flesh and guided it to the seethingly hungry opening, as she plunged herself downward to impale her excited vagina on the hardened length of him.
"Oh, God!" she gasped as it raced up into her. "It's so big!"
As she enclosed the fleshy rod of his great cock up into the moist warmth of her female channel, he grunted aloud with the sharp, sweet, almost painful sensation. The blunt, rubbery head plowed all before it, folding the walls of her passage in waves of coral flesh, until it battered deep up against the far back wall of her womb, flicking past the hard, rigid neck of her cervix.
Uncontrollably, she began to ride up and down it, moaning aloud as she writhed and heaved her loins around on his belly, screwing and squirming with wild abandon, her teeth clenched, face contorted with the urgency of her need.
He raised his head to watch her wild contortions. Her white buttocks, heaved, wide-spread, their white, softly rounded protuberances grinding down into the black skin of his belly. The puckered, tight and tiny hole of her anus caught his eye where it nestled in the secret crevice of her ass. Instantly, he slid his hand up under her posting buttocks, his long, middle finger extended, and as she rode down the length of his prick, he gently wormed his fingertip inside the throbbing, spongy flesh of her backside, causing her to squeal with the sudden pleasure-pain of it. Momentarily, she paused to let her rectum adjust to the unexpected invasion of his finger; then, with quickened movements, she returned to her joyful labors as she skewered herself down upon the dual presences in her loins, absorbing both deeply up into her seething belly. Each of her downward plunges drove his cock to the hilt, his finger to the flat of his palm.
Terri began to squeal and moan, incessantly, captured in the throes of her ecstasy; the double ravishment of her loins that she inflicted on herself giving her an intense pleasure-pain of sexual rapture. She reached down between his thighs and cupped his balls in her hands, squeezing and massaging them, the sperm-swollen heaviness of them moving through her hands within the heavily wrinkled sac; actually, she handled them as though she would squeeze their vital fluids from them up into her seething, palpitating cunt.
"Oh! OOooh! OOOOooohhh! God!" she began to chant. "I'm going to cum! OOOhhh! Fuck! Oh, Gooooddddd!"
Her hips bucked over him with insanely wild abandon, as she lunged up and down, faster and faster absorbing both his long finger and longer, harder and thicker cock up into the orgasm-bound passages; and finally, she was there, awash in the surf of her passions from which she swam, gaspingly, giddy from the pressure of the depths.
"AAAAAaaaaaaggggghhhh!" she screamed. "I'm cummmmmmmmiiiiiiinnnnnnggggg!Oh, Goddddd! I'm there! OOOooooooooooooohhhh! Fuuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkkkkkk!"
Then, suddenly, as she screamed out her obscenity and fucked his finger and cock with her asshole and cunt, Jack felt it begin for him. It surged from him in a burning stream of jetting cum that hosed the full length of his rigid, impaling cock, its blood-engorged head pumping the thick, hot, viscid and white semen deep up into the churning crotch above him. His breath had come ever faster to him; now, with a loud groan of intense pleasure, he heaved up to her, slamming his hardened rod up into her, nibbling, open cuntal passage, his jerking cock spewing in short surging spurts, almost incessantly, it seemed and he lifted her off the ground with the terrific force of his final thrust.
"Oh, shit!" he said, "Oh, shit! You've got the sweetest cunt this side of heaven!"
Her body convulsed spasmodically, as wave after wave of her orgasm passed over her; at last, with a sigh of complete satisfaction, Terri crawled off his rapidly deflating penis and crawled up beside him to smother his lips with her own before she collapsed and snuggled her white voluptuousness into his circling, strong black arms.
They rested; they even may have slept for a few moments in their satisfaction with each other. When she could speak, she murmured in his ear, "Why don't we go back to my place . . . ? There's nobody there . . . won't be until late Monday afternoon."
Unhesitatingly, the black man, so enthralled, so taken with his new, white lover, agreed. "All right . . . a bed'll sure be a lot more comfortable than this rocky ground!"
"You'll stay with me through the night. . . ? "
"Wild elephants couldn't keep me from it!" he said, the vision of himself occupying the big bed in her plush bedroom with her beside him, white, blonde and sexy, almost blotting out his reasoning mind, completely, but love is blind-so it is said-justice, too is not depicted as blind for nothing! . . . And Jack Gordon's love for Terri was unreasoning . . . and blind!
CHAPTER 8
Johnny Leonard had all the information he needed. Acting on Frank Coppol's orders, he decided the time had arrived to make his move against the prostitution ring operating in Coppol territory; a ring that was not paying off to Frank, and that was one of those things people did not do to Frank.
Sunday morning, at a late brunch, Johnny issued his orders: Bring them all in, today; they'd meet with Frank in the afternoon!
"How about the Johns?" a heavyweight type asked him.
"Send them on their way . . . just bring in the girls . . . and the guy who's running it!" Johnny told them. "You've got the names and addresses!"
* * *
Jack and Terri had made a night of it. They had returned to her home gone directly to her bedroom and copulated, neither of them caring or thinking of anything but sex. Jack had fucked her three more times before dawn, then they both slept a sweet sleep of sheer exhaustion.
Awaking about noon time, Terri had looked over at his sleeping form, his nude, black body, long, lean and muscular contrasting sharply with her own white loveliness, and playfully she had reached out to his flaccid penis, lying limp and long between his legs, to caress and massage it to alert erectness. He awoke and she was suddenly enveloped in his strong arms, again.
"Don't you ever get enough?" he asked her with a grin.
"No," she said. "It's still like a new toy.. . . "
"That's no toy you've got in your hand!" he came back.
Later, satiated, but hungry, now, they showered and dressed, went to the kitchen where she made coffee, and they snacked from Greta's well-stocked refrigerator.
They were sitting at the kitchen table over a second cup of coffee. Jack had just lit a cigarette when the fat man walked in the back door.
Jack started to rise from his chair, startled, "What.. . ? "
The second man stood behind him. He said, "Sit back down, quiet like . . . and nobody gets hurt! We just want the girl!"
Terri screamed. The fat man slapped her once, hard, across the face. The cold steel against Jack's back reminded him not to interfere.
The fat man told her, "Get your purse . . . or whatever you need! You're going to have a talk with Frank!"
"F-Frank . . . ? Frank . . . wh-who?" she asked, cringing away from him, not wanting to be hurt, again.
"Frank Coppol!" he grunted. "He don't like people holding out on him!"
"I-I don't u-understand. . . . "
"You will!" the second man with the gun snapped. "All working whores payoff to Frank . . . or they don't work at all!"
". . . And some of them can't work again after we've finished!" the fat man said, his face folding up in a smile at his own humor. "Take the John out and put him in his car . . . send him on his way with our regards!" he finished.
The situation was, on the instant, crystal clear to Jack. As the gun in his back prodded him to his feet, he looked at Terri with old fury. "Let me get my wallet," he said.
"O.K. . . . but careful like!" the man behind him warned.
Jack took his last twenty dollar bill and tossed it on the table. His voice was steely, "I can't pay your full price, but I never took anything for nothing in my life!"
Terri recoiled. He may as well have struck her.
"Oh, J-Jack . . . ! " she sobbed, her eyes scalding with quick tears. "Y-You don't u-under-stand!"
"I understand!" he snapped and strode from the room.
"J-Jaaaaaaaaackkkkkkkkk!" she screamed. SMACK!
"Shut up!" the fat man snapped. "Pick up your money . . . put it in your purse, and let's go!" ;
Terri could only obey, as silently, now, completely cowed, she did as the fat man bid her.
Oh, God! What have I done! What have I done?
* * *
"They're all here, now!" Johnny Leonard reported.
The girls were led in one by one to be seated before Frank Coppol, who sat back, relaxed, behind his big desk, the surface of which was polished to a high gloss. Everything in the room reflected good taste with no expense spared.
There was Pauline Riggs, sullen and haughty; Gloria put on an amused smile; then, there came Barbara, Joan, Marie and Francine who were frightened, pale, sobbing. Last, to be brought in was Terri. Pauline Riggs gasped, audibly, when she saw her, "Oh, my God!"
Terri ignored her, but her eyes clashed, momentarily, with those of Gloria, who smiled, somewhat wanly, and said, "Welcome to the sorority.. . . "
They had all been escorted separately into the big office, having been held in individual rooms until all were present. Now, the door opened and George Marklin was escorted into the room by two guards. He saw Terri. His face paled, eyes widening, mouth gaping open.
He croaked, "Terri! What are you doing here?"
George could have been no more surprised than was his wife. The room spun as her vision dimmed. Her faint was short-lived as a glass of good brandy was placed to her lips, and she was forced to sip its reviving warmth.
Frank Coppol watched with easy amusement, spearing each of them with his good eye, missing nothing.
"All right," he said, "She'll be all right now!"
Terri was allowed to settle back in the cushions with the brandy glass in her hand. She was confused. The turns of events happening too fast for her to grasp the full meaning of what was going on.
Johnny Leonard began to speak, "Here's the story, Frank. Marko, here," he indicated George Marklin, "got together with Pauline Riggs, who manages an exclusive dress shop.. . . "
Marko? He called my husband M-Marko . . . ? ! Terri thought in confusion.
"She extends credit to women who like nice things, but can't really pay for them. Then, she springs the trap.. . . Work it out . . . pay off the debt by taking on the Johns she books for them. Now, they work it real cool . . . they only work in the afternoon, and the Johns are all high pay business and professional types. She keeps the gals stashed in three pretty nice apartments that Marko keeps for that purpose. Pauline and Gloria are the enforcers and make the pick-ups from the girls. Pauline and Marko split the take . . . and Gloria gets a bonus on the side . . . and the crazy thing is it was working! That's about it!"
Coppol gave a short laugh. "Smart!" he chuckled. "But not smart enough, Marko!"
"My name's George Marklin . . . and I'm a movie direc . . . " George began.
Coppol's eye stopped him, "We know who you are . . . you're Gorgonio Marko, born in Naples! You took the name George Marklin when you came over here to work in the movies, but you had to have more . . . you had to get back in the rackets, and prostitution was the one you figured you could get by with . . . select girls . . . rich Johns . . . afternoons only . . . you figured you'd never hurt us enough for us to notice you . . . isn't that it?"
"It's all a mistake! You got the wrong man!" George croaked.
"We've got the right man, Marko!" Frank said with finality, then with a smile, he continued, "But what went wrong with your system? It's a small irony, isn't it, that your wife was caught in your little trap . . . and you didn't know it?"
Marklin shot a malevolent glance at Pauline, "You shitty slut!" he screamed.
Pauline faced him, "Shut up! You bastard!"
"It's a little late for recriminations!" Frank Coppol interjected. "Now, you all listen to me!"
The room became silent; all eyes turned toward him, as he went on, "Nobody pulls crap like this on Frank Coppol! We're going to settle this to my satisfaction. We'll start with you, Marko! I'm going to give you three days to make arrangements to go back to Napoli! If you're still around after that, they'll have to send you home in a box! Understand? . . . Ordinarily, I don't do this . . . I'm being lenient. . . but I kind of like your ingenuity . . . maybe you can work with the boys in Italy!"
Marklin nodded, dumbly, glad that he had gained a reprieve. He knew that he should have been a dead man.
like a judge in his chambers, Frank dealt with each in turn: Francine, Barbara, Joan and Marie, each in her own way, stated that she had been trapped into the prostitution gambit, had never wanted to do it.. . and wanted to get out of it, now.
Frank warned them, "Don't ever work in my territory, again! Break your promise . . . and you wind up broken! Believe me . . . we have methods that will remind you . . . nobody crosses me! Remember who I am . . . I'm Frank Coppol . . . and my family runs Southern California!"
The four frightened women understood him, and were grateful that their punishment had been so light.
With mounting horror, Terri began to understand clearly what was happening. This man wielded more power than any man she had ever known or heard about. She knew that her turn would come soon; it would be a chance for her to speak in self-defense. What could she say? What would she say? Then, the stark memory of that instant when Jack Gordon had tossed a wrinkled twenty dollar bill onto the kitchen table came flashing across her mind. She was a whore! Oh, God! What can I do?
Frank's good eye pinned Gloria to her chair; she tried to stare him down, defiantly, but it was she who wavered after long moments.
. . And you, Gloria West, model, photographer . . . married to an insurance company executive . . . what makes you tick?"
Gloria glanced at Pauline, briefly, not aware that she had done so. Frank saw it; his eye gleamed, and before she could answer, he had supplied it for himself, "I think I know . . . you make it with girls, eh?"
The redhead looked at him, steadily, her eyes defiant.
"Yes," she said, simply.
"And, you and Mrs. Riggs are the 69 twins . . . I gather?"
Pauline shot him a murderous look. "You assume a lot of things, Mr. Coppol!"
"I assume nothing, Mrs. Riggs! I know! Now, we'll consider your cases together!" He was pensive for a moment. "Guido!" he said, "I'm turning the madame over to you . . . you should be able to use her in that house near the docks at San Pedro!"
Guido looked her over, critically, and agreed, "O.K., Frank . . . I need some new blood down there!"
Pauline sprang to her feet, eyes flaming, "I'm not a piece of merchandise! I won't be pawed . . . and manhandled like a common prostitute!"
Frank's eye stabbed at Guido. In two strides he stood before her, stocky and muscular. He said, softly, "You don't have a choice! From now on, you do as I say! You work for me, now!"
". . . But, those horrible working men . . . they'll want to.. . . "
"Fuck you . . . or anything else they want! You name it! Now sit down and shut up, until
Frank's through . . . then I'll begin training you the way I like for my girls to be trained!" Guido said, coldly.
Pauline remained standing, defiantly, "You can't force me to.. . . "
She didn't get a chance to finish. Guido's hand slashed out to catch her full on the side of the face. "That's all, bitch!"
The woman sank into her seat whimpering, a hand to her face, her eyes widened in disbelief, an unnamed horror building in her. She couldn't believe it was possible that they would make her work for them as a common whore . . . and on the docks! The vision of the rough stevedores, sailors and human flotsam that inhabited areas like that repulsed her. They were going to use her body for their own lustful satisfaction! She was trapped! Oh, God! They couldn't do that to her . . . not to Pauline Riggs who only wanted gentle sex with other women.
Coppol turned his attention to Gloria as Guido regained his own chair.
"Johnny!" he said. Johnny Leonard was instantly alert.
"Yes, Frank!"
"We'll send this redhead down to Tijuana. I owe Jose a favor for helping us with that last shipment out of Mexico."
Leonard shifted, uneasily, "What about immigration . . . we don't want to run into trouble with them.. . . "
"No trouble to get her in . . . but she'd have a hell of a time to get back into the U.S. Anyway, she'll be Jose's problem, after you turn her over to him!" Frank explained.
"O.K.. . . It's as good as done!" Johnny agreed.
With a horrible sinking feeling that seemed to turn to lead in her belly, Terri knew that she would be next.. . and last.
Frank Coppol's good eye looked her over carefully, "Now, Mrs. Terri Marklin, beauty contest winner and former movie star . . . what do you have to say, for yourself?"
Terri looked at him, steadily; she was dry-eyed and composed. During the time he had addressed himself to the others in the forlorn group, she had come to a decision, a decision, she knew that would change everything for her, perhaps. She spoke, softly, her voice hardly, audible.
"I-I was t-tricked," she began, "forced t-to play the p-part of a whore . . . I am a wh-whore . . . and now . . . I'll just have to keep on being one. I like nice things . . . maybe I could keep on getting nice clothes . . . meeting rich people . . . and getting some kicks doing it.. . . "
A smile spread across his face. He chuckled, "I like people who face things realistically and honestly, and I'm going to give you your chance." He swiveled to face Johnny Leonard and went on, "Johnny, let Terri get whatever she needs . . . send one of the boys with her to help her pack, then take her to my place up on Wilshire. She'll be under your supervision . . . but I want her available to work directly for me, anytime I want her . . . understand?"
"Of course, Frank," he smiled.
"All right, then . . . everything's settled! Frank Coppol said and rose to his feet. The meeting was over. The fates of eight human beings had been determined by this man who had acted as judge, jury and executioner, working within a framework of unwritten law, outside the legal jurisdiction of city, county, state and nation. His word was law . . . and he was supreme. There could be no appeal, and his sentences would be carried out to the letter. Such was the power wielded by this Capo, the family leader, Frank Coppol who controlled all vice, rackets and crime in Southern California.
Terri rose to her feet with the others; the fat man came to escort her. No! That was not the right word. He was assigned to her as a guard. She was a valuable property, now.
Frank Coppol smiled and came to her, "I like you," he said. "You treat me right . . . and I'll see that you're taken care of . . . properly." He grinned, lewdly, his meaning unmistakable.
"I-I understand," she said smiling up at him.
* * *
A week and a half later, a fisherman discovered Peter Marklin's car in the lake. He was identified, and the police began their investigation that ran, almost at once, into blind alleys. His father and stepmother were nowhere to be found, their estate sold.
Then, about two months later, in San Francisco, Jack Gordon's rented room was invaded by several street people types.
"like we heard you know something about what happened to Brother Marklin?"
"like what, man?" Jack asked.
"Well, you know, like he was found dead at the bottom of a lake!"
"That's too bad! Sorry, I can't help you, man.. . . "
The leader continued, "Let me lay it on you . . . like some of our people are sleeping up there, you know . . . blowing a little grass . . . and doing a little banging . . . and like they're not too stoned to see and hear what's happening . . . so we know, man! We got the word . . . and you're it!"
Several days later, an unidentified black man's body was found floating in the bay. He had been emasculated, and the penis was stuffed into his mouth. San Francisco police were baffled by the senseless crime. The notes on the incident went into the police files as one of the city's unsolved crimes. The newspapers carried it for awhile, comparing it to lynchings in the South, then, they too dropped it.
* * *
Terri, of course, never heard from or about Jack Gordon. He had walked out of her life, forever. She did, however, hear about Pauline Riggs. A week after the session in Frank Coppol's office, she was knocked down and run over by a huge tractor-trailer rig. She was killed, instantly. The newspapers duly reported it, quoting the truck driver, "This woman ran right out in front of me . . . I couldn't avoid hitting her! It was almost like she wanted to be hit . . . like she was committing suicide."
* * *
A month later, Terri was being driven to Palm Springs by the fat man. He was her constant companion, now; he drove her to her assignations and picked her up, depositing her safely back again at the apartment Frank Coppol maintained for her. He took Frank's payoff from her take and provided her with protection.
As they drove along the desert highway, they chatted.
"Do you know these people I'm supposed to spend the weekend with, Mr. Trombatori."
"Call me Al," he said amiably. Then, "All I know is the guy's a rich, hot one . . . something to do with electronics . . . and Frank's working with him. . . . "
"Oh?" she rounded her red lips, prettily. "Is he married?"
"Yeah . . . Frank said she was a beautiful doll . . . an AC-DC type . . . " he supplied.
"MMMmmmmnnn . . . just the kind of setup I like!" she said.
Terri's mind seethed with anticipation. She would get to take care of both of them . . . for a whole weekend. It would be easy to satisfy the man, she decided. It always was . . . then, she'd be free to be with the woman, a beautiful doll, Al had said. That's what she really looked forward to, what she really lived for, and it was a good life. She had almost everything she had ever wanted: Clothes and sex . . . all kinds of sex!
She looked at the fat man named Al and said, "Al . . . how come you never give me a tumble?"
He looked at her with startled eyes. "You don't know?" he asked. "No!"
"You're Frank's girl! It's hands off . . . for everybody! Didn't you know that?"
"No . . . no, I didn't know that.. . . " She was thoughtful for a moment. "Is that good . . . ? "
"For you!" he said. "You're a lucky broad!"
"Then, you'll never.. . . "
"Never!" he said. "Unless Frank gives the word!"
"Will h-he ever do that?"
It was the fat man's turn to hesitate, thoughtfully. "As long as you play ball with Frank.. . keep your nose clean . . . do as he says . . . your set!" he told her.
"Is that part of the code, too?"
"It's the code! But don't worry Terri . . . everything is O.K. . . . and you're an O.K. gal! Frank won't ever get tired of you!"
