A girl of fourteen is sunbathing in the lush grass surrounding her father's swimming pool. The early summer sun glares fiercely through the humid air, turning the surrounding upper class suburb into a shimmering blur through which nothing moves. The only sounds to be heard in the still, soupy air are the tinny clatter of the girl's transistor and the occasional lazy buzz of a foraging bee.
The girl lies prone on a beach towel she has spread upon the grass, allowing the harsh sun to bake her back and legs. The high-fenced backyard is the girl's domain, and she reposes with the serenity of a female lion, at the center of her inviolable space. She is conditioned to solitude, and has unfastened her bikini top. The bit of orange nylon is crumpled beneath her, still attached by a single strap around her neck. Auburn tresses tumble chaotically about her reposing face, which is turned to the side and supported by her folded arms. Tiny beads of sweat have formed on her smooth brow and across the bridge of her aristocratic nose.
Perspiration also coats her sleek tapering back, giving it the look of burnished copper. Compact, girlish buttocks flare outward from her gossamer waist beneath the clinging sheath of her bikini bottom. Farther up along her shimmering flank can be seen the creamy bulge of her constricted breasts. Here the Impression of girlhood dissolves, for these are not the saucy buds of youth. Rather, they show the firm roundness of imminent maturity, and their plump mass raises her upturned back into a smooth S-curve.
The seven-foot redwood fence which surrounds the girl's universe adjoins a sprawling modern ranch-style house, which she assumes will be unoccupied until late in the evening. But she is wrong. A man now stands just inside the glass panels which separate the house and the yard. It is his house and his yard, and he looks at the naked back of his daughter. He is a bulky man of robust middle age dressed in a tailored suit with elephant-hide boots. Salt-and-pepper hair is close-cropped about his blocky head, which aims unwaveringly at the girl's tawny form.
As he watches, one stubby hand comes up and loosens his tie. The other, hanging at his side, idly flicks ashes from a cigar between its fat fingers. He stares at the girl a moment longer and his hand strays to his crotch where it pulls at the fabric around his bulging manhood. He cocks his head and listens to the house for a moment before sliding back the glass door and stepping onto the patio. He crosses the yard soundlessly and stands above the girl, his shadow falling across her face. The girl is awakened but not startled. One eye opens and she squints up at him but otherwise she makes no move.
"Hello, Father," she says at length. "What're you doing home early?"
"The air conditioning broke down at the plant. Thought I'd come home to take a dip and change clothes. Where's your mother?"
"At Aunt Frieda's, I guess."
He casts a sidelong glance toward the house and seats himself on the grass. He settles gracefully for a fat man, folding his legs easily beneath him. He does not seem to notice the heat. The girl swivels her head to watch him, but still makes no attempt to fasten her bikini.
The father sits Buddha-like for a moment, staring at the girl's back. Hands clasped in his lap fidget sporadically and sweat begins to bead on his high forehead.
"Do you have plans for this evening?" he says pleasantly.
The girl once again rests her cheek on her folded arms and closes her eyes.
"I have a date," she murmurs. She resents the disturbance and has no wish to engage in polite conversation.
"Oh? With whom?"
"Ronnie."
"That's Reginald Holburton's boy, right? Did you know he's president of the country club?"
"Ronnie may have mentioned it."
The man seems to consider this for a moment. He also seems to be feeling the heat; he removes his jacket and begins to unbutton his shirt.
"What kind of boy, is he?"
The girl gives an elaborate shrug from her reclining position. "Well," she says, "he's sixteen, drives a Corvette, and is fairly good-looking."
"Is that all?"
"What do mean, 'Is that all?' "
"Has he tried anything yet?"
"Why, father, whatever do you mean?" She says this last with a teasing lilt, signifying that she knows exactly what he means.
The man grunts heavily and rises. The girl watches him with arched brows as he continues to strip. Trousers and undershorts are tossed onto the grass and he stands stark and huge in the glaring heat. The swath of fat hanging from his broad shoulders jiggles and sways as he turns and walks to the pool.
He hits the water with a small explosion that sprays small droplets over the girl's back. She watches him paddle slowly up and down the length of the pool a few times. Then, with great unconcern, she glances at the sun overhead and the watch beside her. Her father stripping in front of her is not a usual occurrence, but he is not one to consider the feelings of those around him. With a secret smile, she elects to give him something to think about for a change.
She reaches behind her neck and unties the single nylon loop which holds her bikini top and turns over, flinging the useless bra onto the lawn. Globular tanned breasts dance tremulously over her narrow torso as she settles onto her back. Her teats are hard, perfect ovoids covered with the taut skin of youth and tipped with broad pink cones which swell and distend in the open air. Absently she lets her hands come up to massage the sharp, unwrinkled fold where the lower curve of her mounds joins the corrugated plateau of her rib cage. As circulation returns, she slides her hands slowly up and over the golden peaks of new womanhood and back down again; down across the fleshless flat plain of her belly. Then her arms go straight out to her sides to rest, drawing her breasts upward and outward to jut proudly at the sun.
The girl does not stir as her father hauls himself walrus like from the pool, and it is only when he stands dripping water on her feet that she opens her eyes once again. Her eyes fight the blinding glare to focus on his broad bulk looming above her and she sees his thick penis twitching half-erect from his dark bush. She stares transfixed as the quickening beat of his heart pumps his member fully erect. Drops of water fall from the swelling head with each little twitch and splash onto her toes.
Surprise turns to shock on the girl's face. She draws herself up onto her elbows, but before she can move farther he drops to his knees and pinions her outspread legs with his hands.
"W-What're you doing!" she yells. But it is too late: She knows very well what he's doing.
Her father only smiles and stares fixedly at her tits. His hand begin to work her panties down over slim hips.
"Stop it!" she pleads, and begins to struggle ineffectually in his grasp. Rough hands tighten whitely on her sculpted bare thighs. He lowers his head and smells deeply of her dainty pubis.
"Just relax, little girl," he growls. "If you make it rough for me, I can make it a lot rougher on you."
"Why?" she asks him, her voice quieting. She makes an effort to regain her composure, desperately intent upon a new track. "Don't I have any rights?" she demands in a quavering voice.
"What do you know about rights?" he sneers. "Rights belong to those who are strong enough to claim them, and it's time you found that out. Now shut up and play along or I'll knock your tits off."
With that he hurls his mass on top of her, crushing her to the ground and squeezing her breath away. His muscular thighs force hers apart and he fumbles with his hand, trying to fit the head of his swollen cock into her squirming, too-small pussy. She gasps for breath and tries to push him off, but he is too heavy and too strong.
The girl cries out once and tears well up in her eyes. The man grunts and lunges into her. He grasps her now motionless shoulders cruelly, supporting himself above her heaving breasts. The girl sobs silently beneath him; her face contorts horribly each time his powerful thrusts pierce her.
His manacle grip begins to bite into her pliant flesh and his huge body begins to shake uncontrollably. His head is thrown back and he screams an oath.
"Holy Jesus Mother God Damn Duck on a Crutch Christ!"
His spasm ends and he collapses heavily onto the girl, heaving with labored breath. She averts her tear-streaked face and crushes her lips against a clenched fist. His weight crushes her, his heat smothers her, and his rattling breath roars in her ears. She stares fixedly at the shimmering waves of summer air which rise from the sun-baked patio.
* * *
Carole stared straight ahead through the wind-shield at the elusive point far down the road where heat waves and sun rays melted together to form a glimmering quicksilver pool. Her mind stumbled back from that primal scene so many years ago when her father had surprised her by the swimming pool. The hate and revulsion she had felt on that day had solidified over the years, molding her otherwise lovely features into a permanent look of icy intensity. She lifted her eyes briefly to the rear-view mirror and found her father watching her with the same cold gaze. She managed to stifle the hot blush which rose up in her before it reached her face.
"Scared, honey?" Carole's mother turned to peer at her over the seat-back. The voice was husky and comradely. Bloodshot, mascaraed eyes glanced at Carole's hands which nervously clutched at the boxes and bags which flanked her on the seat.
"No, mother. I was just thinking about... college, you know," she replied slowly. Fighting down the welling emotion within her, she went on, improvising.
"Not scared, really. It's bound to be so different than high school and living at home. But I'm ready for it, I want it to happen."
"That's the spirit!" smiled her mother.
Her father managed a gruff chuckle, keeping his eyes on the road. "Now, Grace, you know our sweet young girl has never lacked any in that department."
Carole wondered if he, too, had been remembering their shameful incest. How it would hurt her mother to find out. Carole would do anything to spare her that hurt, and indeed she had. Many times her father had threatened just that in order to get her to fuck with him. This she had done with cool passivity, silently feeding upon his lust to build within herself the nerve and determination that she would be calling upon very soon.
Gazing upon her mother's gently smiling face, Carole wondered if she was seeing herself twenty years hence. They both had high, wide cheekbones, sculpted nose, pointed chin, and large, sky-blue eyes. She hoped her own face would not show the grief lines that crinkled her mother's forehead or the puffiness of eye which testified to long, booze-filled nights alone with a young daughter.
Grace Garth bore her classic Nordic features proudly and maintained them with care. They were about all she had left, since the spirit and will she had once possessed had long since been drained out of her and used up. Her husband was responsible for this, as he was for everything, good and bad, that had happened since they were married. Her only occupation was also her only duty: keeping herself elegant and beautiful enough to play her role as the wife of an industrial tycoon. At this she succeeded admirably, despite the droll companionship of the gin with which she shared her lonely evenings.
From her mother Carole had learned all the tricks, all the techniques of seduction, all the shortcuts to achieving the kind of physical presence that would melt men's hearts and stiffen their pricks. And from her ambitious father she had inherited the domineering, steadfast will to become. Ever since that day by the pool, Carole had been preparing herself. She molded her body into a weapon to be used in her personal battle against the world, a force to be wielded with as much tactical genius as her womanly instincts and sexual capacity could muster.
"Don't you think that skirt is a little severe for modern styles, dear?" inquired her mother. The older woman's eyes flitted nervously to her daughter's face and away again, as if she were worried that her query was too insolent. "You have a nice brown corduroy that would set off your hair nicely."
"It's just for the trip, Mother," Carole said. She smoothed the heavy black knee-length skirt which modestly concealed her shapely brown thighs. Her selection of apparel was not a casual decision, of course. Carole had called upon her intimate knowledge of alluring dress to make it, and had come to the conclusion that the ripe, innocent schoolgirl approach was to her greatest advantage. Her conservative .dress would make a strong appeal to the paternal instincts of her teachers, and at the same time give her a low profile in the eyes of the male students, whom she did not seek to impress.
Butterflies of anticipation began to swarm in Carole's stomach as her father's Cadillac entered the outskirts of the college town that was their destination. The university itself dominated the scene from a lofty hill in the center of town. They swept along tree-lined avenues, following the directions in Carole's guidebook. The quiet little community had already been transformed into a beehive of activity as students and their parents poured in for the first day of orientation and registration.
At last the car glided to a halt before an impressive brick structure with brightly-shuttered windows. In the center of a wide, neatly trimmed lawn were large cast-iron Greek letters Pi Iota Epsilon.
"This must be the place," announced her father as he shut off the car.
"My, what a handsome building," said her mother. "It's just like we pictured it, isn't it honey?"
"Yes, Mother, it is. I guess I'll go up and see what we're supposed to do."
Carole got out of the car and sauntered across the lawn, trying to look calm and self-assured. As she approached the large double-hung doors, a tall, immaculately dressed young woman came out to meet her.
"Hello, I'm Pamela Foster, the president of P.I.E. And you must be one of our new pledges, right?"
"Right. I'm Carole Garth."
The two girls touched hands and regarded each other for a moment, sizing each other up in the manner of two supremely beautiful women. Carole could read nothing in Pamela's cool, green-eyed gaze.
"And that must be your family," said Pamela, looking over Carole's shoulder. "There's a parking lot around back where you can unload."
Carole gave her father directions to the rear lot and then went inside with Pamela, where she met some other girls. They were all cast from the same elegant mold: beautiful, well-dressed, and confident. And they all radiated a casual sexuality that Carole found herself admiring.
After brief introductions, Pamela led the way to the rear door to meet Carole's parents. Pamela was all radiance and saccharin as she greeted Mr. and Mrs. Garth, and Carole noticed her father giving her his bold, roving stare. He stood off to one side as the women chatted, giving the impression of a great fat spider about to pounce.
"Now, Mr. and Mrs. Garth," purred Pamela, abruptly steering them into the sorority house. "As Carole has undoubtedly told you, there are sixty women living in the house at present, two to a room. Incoming pledges are assigned roommates arbitrarily, with the option of exchanging rooms once they get to know the other residents.
"PIE was founded at the University thirty-eight years ago, and we have a long tradition of being the classiest house on campus, if I do say so. Our alumnae are some of the most respected women throughout the country, including the wife of our lieutenant governor and, our Dean of Women, Miss Saks."
Pamela glided sillily ahead of them, her firm rounded hips pumping seductively above long, tapering legs. She had led them to the great polished walnut staircase, where she paused to run her hand over the gleaming wood.
"The building itself was constructed in 1951, to provide the best in atmosphere for both relaxation and study. Now I'm sure you'd like to see Carole's room."
They mounted the stairs and Pamela shepherded them down the carpeted second-floor hallway. They stopped before one of the massive wooden doors and Pamela handed Carole a key from the jingling cluster she carried. Pamela regarded Carole curiously as she accepted the key and tried to fit it into the lock. Carole felt her cheeks burn under that amused gaze and fumbled briefly with the key in her discomfort.
At last the door opened and Carole preceded them inside. The room was furnished sparsely, yet with style. PIE's alumnae had done a thorough job, down to the oaken dressers, desks, and beds. Half-paneled walls trimmed with bright wallpaper gave the room a comfortable but functional look.
Carole's father left immediately, presumably to get her luggage, and her mother asked about the ladies' room. Pamela relaxed visibly when they had gone and slouched in the doorway with folded arms as Carole inspected the premises.
"Your roommate hasn't arrived yet," Pamela said. "So you may have the place to yourself for a day or so. Her name is Marjie Stiller and she's from the South. She was one of our most popular pledges last year."
"I'm sure we'll get along fine," said Carole as she clattered through the empty dresser.
"Your parents seem like nice people," said Pamela evenly.
"Ma's a lush and father is a swine," Carole blurted. "Didn't you see the way he was looking at your ass?"
Pamela shrugged. "Happens all the time. Even the nice ones do it."
"You're lucky he didn't make a grab for you. You're just the style that turns him on."
"You sound pretty sure of that"
"I am."
Pamela looked at the ceiling and seemed to be considering what she had just heard. Carole watched her carefully but could discern none of her thoughts from her controlled expression.
"Listen," Pamela said abruptly, meeting Carole's gaze. "I have to run along now but I'll try to drop in later and see how you're getting along. You'll find linens in the closet at the end of the hall." With an enigmatic smile she turned and disappeared down the hall.
Carole's father dutifully transported her small mountain of belongings from the car to her room and soon became anxious to leave. The return drive was a long one and he wanted to get started. He and Carole exchanged terse goodbyes and he walked out. Grace lingered to give her daughter a wet, warm kiss before silently following. Carole dismissed them from her mind with a small frown and at once began to unpack and arrange her things.
It was nearly dark outside before Carole had her things stowed away to her satisfaction. She stood alone in the half-light that entered her window, pondering and listening. Laughing voices and running footsteps came to her through the closed door: sounds of moving in and greeting old friends.
Carole considered the prospect of making new friends. She had never had many, and those she did have tended to share both her ambition and her antipathy toward males. This was the kind of woman she would seek out to fulfill her limited need for companionship, and she knew from experience that there would be few of them. The others, she knew, were only biding their time until they could snare a handsome, responsible male and settle down to a life of serving, cleaning, and making babies.
Of the girls she had met so far, only Pamela Foster seemed to have the smug self-assurance that Carole sought for herself. She dressed and acted beautifully when it was necessary, but she was her own woman underneath. There was probably much that Carole could learn from the older girl, and she began considering ways to gain Pamela's friendship. Perhaps, Carole thought with a smile, she was a woman who liked women.
Slowly, Carole began to strip. She felt stiff and sweaty after the long ride and the exertion of moving, and she definitely needed a shower. Leisurely she removed her wrinkled blouse and skirt and stood motionless before the full-length mirror inside the closed door. Her approving glance roamed the dim reflection of her golden-brown skin as she absently rubbed the red creases left on her narrow flanks by the waistband of the skirt. Her white panties, damp with sweat, clung clammily to her crotch and buttocks. Bending, she slid the skimpy garment down over her hips and kicked it into a corner. She spread her legs and arched her back, tossing her head back as she reached behind to unfasten her bra. Soon this, too, fell away, revealing the dangling globes of her breasts with their large dusky aureoli. The nipples puckered and stiffened immediately in the cool air, and she rolled the plump tips between her fingers, tugging gently on the taut skin.
Gently, she massaged the red marks of constraint from her firm, massive boobs and realized with satisfaction that she would have no need for a bra anymore. The resilient flesh responded readily to her touch, and she felt a delightful tingle as her mounds flushed with returning circulation. Carole watched with rapt fascination as her breasts grew even larger under her prodding hands, and the nipples engorged and elongated into fat bulbs as large as the end of her finger. What truly marvelous glands they were, she thought dreamily, cupping them with her palms and forcing them upward and together into perfect twin hemispheres. Her distended nipples projected horizontally forward, aiming at their mirrored image.
Bending forward from her waist, Carole flattened her nipples against the cold glass. The chill caused a small gasp to .escape her parted lips, and her eyes widened as' a sensual shiver crept down her spine. Then her eyes closed as an answering warmth began to rise from deep within her. The familiar ache of her expanding, juicing cunt clouded her thoughts. The blood began to drum in her ears as she released her taut bosom and slowly slid her palms down over her rib cage and flat belly to converge at her wide, moist crotch.
She slipped a finger between her enlarging labia and concentrated on the muscles deep in her cunt, causing them to ripple and contract. An involuntary sigh came from her pouting lips as her finger began to work up and down over her hardening clitoris. Her mind, reveling in the delicious sensation, began to dream of the future...
She imagined herself entering the doorway of an immense, ivy-covered building with a Latin inscription carved in stone above. The portal gave into a tiled corridor of heroic dimensions, lined on either side with identical wooden doors. The passageway receded for what seemed hundreds of yards and terminated in an archway through which she could make out an ascending staircase. In her mind, she saw herself striding purposefully down that hall, intent upon reaching the end. As she passed, the doors on either side of her opened to reveal professorial types who leered at her breasts from behind bottle-glass spectacles and made animal noises as she strutted heedlessly past. She walked for a long time, and the arch at the end of the hallway grew slowly larger until she stood beneath it and stared up a veritable mountain of steps. There, larger than life, staring back at her, was the ugly, naked apparition of her father.
With a sharp exhalation of breath, Carole leaned back from the mirror and withdrew her hands from her crotch. Quickly she dismissed the awful fantasy from her mind and shook herself to throw off the sexual tension which still held her. Her tender, swollen boobs bounced suddenly, painfully with the motion.
Scowling now, Carole turned and folded her arms, cradling her distended boobs against her torso. It was great to have big tits, she thought ruefully, but there were disadvantages. Her mother had said once, while measuring her for a dress, that she would be tripping over them by the time she was forty. Forty was a long way off, however, and there was always plastic surgery. Anyway, with any luck at all, she wouldn't need her fabulous body anymore by then.
With a shrug, Carole cast the thought from her mind. She turned back to the mirror and stood, hands on hips, shoulders thrown back. She grinned. They certainly looked marvelous now, though. Forty-two inches of proud, resilient flesh hung high and inviting. No mere male would be able the resist fondling them, kissing them, losing himself in their warm, quivering expanse. Carole chuckled to herself: she could hardly resist them.
Then, remembering the rest of her, she turned halfway around and inspected her rear. No hint of the Earth-mother there, she thought. Not large, but round and compact, it would make a perfect hand-hold for any pig she allowed to root in her slippery cunt. She brought one hand around and gripped her ass, allowing the tip of her finger to tickle the hyper-sensitive strip of flesh between her cunt and her asshole. Then, gingerly, she eased the finger into her anus up to the first knuckle. Making a conscious effort to relax, Carole stirred the finger around and around, expanding the orifice. It was easy and painless now, although it hadn't been when she first tried it. Coming in the back door excited some men, she knew, and she couldn't expect them to be too gentle about it. She never got much out of being penetrated back there, not like in her cunt. It was definitely pleasant though, once she had gotten used to the idea, and now she experienced a series of warm twinges as her asshole contracted again and again upon the invading digit.
After a time she slowly extracted her finger and wiped it carefully on a scrap of tissue. Donning her robe, she collected soap, shampoo, and washcloth and set off for the shower room. She heard voices from behind a few of the doors and from the main floor, but she met no one until she entered the shower room and slipped off her robe. Just as she was about to step into the shower, she nearly bumped into another girl who had been toweling herself inside.
"Why don't you watch where you're going?" growled the girl.
"Oh, excuse me," said Carole tonelessly, but she didn't give any ground. Unable to move forward, she stiffened and waited for the other to move. After a brief battle of stares, which Carole won, the other girl gave a step or two and coolly looked her over.
The two of them, standing there wearing only shower caps, looked remarkably alike. Both had enormous tits, but the other girl's hips were a good deal larger the Carole's. In addition, her tits sagged more than Carole's, indicating poor muscle tone, and she had the beginnings of a paunch. She was wearing waterproof eye makeup which stood out starkly above plump cheeks and jowls. The color of her pubic hair belied the single blond curl which protruded from her shower cap.
Carole's adversary completed her own comparisons, and from the look on her face, came up with the same score.
"Well, what're you staring at? Stand aside!" Her voice held an aggressive tone.
"Why don't you?" said Carole evenly.
"Because I'm a junior and you're a lousy pledge. Now stand aside!"
"I don't care if you're Miss America. Nobody orders me around." With that, Carole squared her shoulders and took a step in the other's direction, fully intending to walk right over her if need be. Just before their tits met in what would have been a titanic clash, the other girl stepped aside and let Carole past.
Carole stood for a moment in the shower stall, hands on hips, glaring at her rival's retreating behind. Her body's threat-response gradually subsided. Her heart and breathing slowed to normal and the angry blush faded from the upper surfaces of her breasts. She had been in such confrontations before, but, never with a perfect stranger. Always it had been with someone like herself: strong-willed and spectacularly built. Always it had been over some matter of prestige, like the time she had taken the drum-major's job from Stefanie Hartsfelder. Or the time she and Marilyn Coombs had both dated the captain of the football team.
* * *
Still scowling, Carole turned on the water and adjusted, the spray to a warm frothy stream which cascaded down her throat and over the creamy expanse of her jugs. The water eased her tension, and she soaped thoroughly and leisurely. Her cares dissolved with the day's grime as she luxuriated under the shower, massaging circulation back into knotted muscles and chafed skin. The scene with the arrogant stranger was almost forgotten by the time she turned off . the shower, and she toweled herself into a warm, rosy glow before heading back to her room.
Refreshed and relaxed from her shower, Carole slipped into lounging pajamas and carefully brushed her long reddish-brown hair until it shone with ruby highlights. She planned a quiet evening by herself, reading and organizing her activities for the next day. She lay down on her freshly made bed with her registration materials and tried for the dozenth time to make up her mind what to take. She was half-heartedly trying to assign a personality to each name on the list of freshmen English instructors when she was startled by a sudden knock at her door.
"Come in!" yelled Carole.
It was Pamela Foster. The sorority president had dispensed with the tailored suit she had been wearing earlier, and was now dressed in a tight-fitting knit top and the shortest pair of cut-off jeans Carole had ever seen. The top hugged every curve of her perfectly formed, high-set breasts, including the sharp bulges of her pointed nipples. Her shorts were cut so high across the back that the pearly swell of her plump ass was visible above her long, tanned legs.
"Hi, Carole. Are you busy?"
"No, not very. Come on in and sit down."
Pamela closed the door and ambled over to sit on the foot of Carole's bed. Carole drew her legs up to make room and put aside the material she had been going over.
"I was wondering why you weren't at the house meeting this evening," said Pamela. "Didn't you hear the announcement at dinner?"
"I didn't go down for dinner. Nobody told me, and I didn't even think about eating."
"That's odd," Pamela frowned. "Somebody was supposed to collect all the new girls at dinnertime."
Carole shrugged. "No harm done. I have to keep my tummy flat, anyway."
"You do a good job of it."
Something about Pamela's voice made Carole look carefully at her face. She noticed that Pamela had been staring fixedly at the gap in her partially buttoned pajama top. And when Pamela met her eyes, there was something oddly familiar about the look on her face. Automatically, Carole's hand came up to cover the opening. Then she remembered her earlier speculation about Pamela's sexual orientation.
Carole held Pamela's gaze candidly and nonchalantly removed the concealing hand from her breast. If Pamela was going to make a pass at her, she wanted to look receptive. She spread her knees far as possible, drawing the thin cloth of her pajamas taut over the gently rounded hump of her mons. Immediately, the other girl's eyes flicked downward, but her expression did not change. Carole slid her hands to the insides of her spread thighs and stretched the material even more, so that her crinkly pubic hair was just visible, along with the slight crease of her vagina.
"Have you met any of the other girls yet?" Pamela said suddenly, tearing her eyes away from Carole's crotch.
"Nobody. Unless you count this bitch I ran into in the shower. She seemed to think she owned the place."
"Hmm," said Pamela, considering this. "Was she about your size? Blonde and stacked?"
"She was stacked all right. Her tits hung down to her bellybutton. But I don't think she was a real blonde."
"Sounds like Gayleen Winstead, our resident whore. She fucks anyone or anything she thinks will gain her a little status, and a few others besides. And she doesn't take too kindly to competition in the tit department."
"And I'm competition?" asked Carole coyly. "Little ole me?"
"I should say so. Those boobs of yours are going to be the envy of every girl in the house." Pamela paused and looked almost wistfully at Carole's chest. Carole responded at once by taking a deep breath and thrusting herself outward. The gap in her pajamas widened, giving Pamela a clear view of the deep, fleshy cleavage between her luscious tits.
"Tell me," Pamela went on, "are they really as hard and firm as they look?"
"Would you like to find out?" Carole asked. Eyeing Pamela steadily, she put her hands on the gentle curve of her ribs and lifted, forcing her plump, round mountains of flesh inward and upward. Pamela's eyes widened as Carole's rosy, puckering nipples peeked out from the gap in her top.
"Go ahead," urged Carole. "Feel. You'll never know for sure unless you do."
Pamela still hesitated, but the temptation she felt was evident in her face. Carole slowly began to massage her own breasts. She tilted her head back and parted her full lips, peering at Pamela through partially closed eyes. Pamela was transfixed by the bulgings and quiverings Carole was inducing in her taut, creamy-skinned breasts. Her hand came up and reached out slowly and shakily, to come to rest in the warm, shifting crevasse between.
"Mmmm," said Carole, squirming sensually under Pamela's touch. "Your hand is so cold. Let me warm it up for you." She hefted her massive boobs and pressed them together, engulfing Pamela's hand in the warm cleft.
The expression on Pamela's face changed from wide-eyed nervousness to one of engrossed wonderment. She leaned closer and began to rub her palm gently over the hard, warm expanse of Carole's boobs. They watched and felt together as Pamela's slow-moving hand brushed aside Carole's pajamas and made its way over every square inch of her reddening, swelling tits.
"You know, you were right," murmured Pamela. "I never would have known how hard and firm they really are unless I felt for myself." Abruptly she leaned closer still and took one of Carole's engorged nipples in her mouth. She sucked and spread saliva over it with her tongue, and Carole responded by grasping the back of Pamela's head with one hand and pressing her face hard against her boob.
Pamela remained for a long time, her face buried in Carole's resilient mound and her lips energetically sucking on her nipple. A shudder passed through her own shapely form as building sexual tension dissolved her waning self-control.
Pamela began in earnest to make love to Carole's breasts. She lay now between Carole's outspread legs, her own breasts flattened against the younger girl's firm tummy. One hand kneaded and cuddled Carole's ripe, luscious melons, which now glistened with saliva. Her mouth explored, kissing, licking, and sucking Carole's boobs as if there never would be another chance. She alternately crushed them and fluffed them, patted and palmed and pinched the nipples. And her other hand slid down her own svelte flanks, into the waistband of her shorts.
Carole meanwhile lay with her head thrown back and her eyes closed, caressing the warm silky cheeks and neck which moved so passionately over her tingling breasts. A low moan escaped her parted lips occasionally as Pamela touched the right places in just the right way. Only a small part of her mind was actually aware of what was going on, however. Her thoughts were busy reviewing the events of the day: how they had led up to this moment, and how perfectly they fit in with her plans.
So far everything was, going perfectly. Pamela Foster, the poised, experienced, self-assured sorority president had turned out to be a sucker for big boobs. In fact, she was somewhat disappointed that Pamela, from whom she had hoped to learn so much, had turned out to be so easy to impress. But, Carole reasoned, she could be impressive if she wished; and she was gratified to attain such intimate relations with Pamela in so short a time.
Carole opened her eyes and gazed downward at Pamela's pale, delicately formed face framed by tousled, silky blond hair. Pamela was still nuzzling and massaging Carole s boobs, while at the same time giving herself a vigorous hand job under her shorts. The older girl was panting and writhing passionately, nearing the heights of sexual stimulation, when she abruptly ceased her masturbation. Both her hands came up to squeeze Carole s boobs together, with her face buried between. Wiggling her tongue furiously, she tickled the private inner surfaces and bathed the already moist skin with her hot breath.
"Oh, Pam!" whispered Carole. The intense tickling of her already sensitized breasts caused her to squirm and clutch at herself. Her legs entwined about the other girl's waist, and she ground her dampening crotch against Pamela's midriff.
"You like that, sweet-tits?" Pamela asked, coming up for breath.
"Oh yes!" gasped Carole. "My tits have never felt like this before. I never thought just a tit-rub could feel so fantastic."
"I really enjoy doing it. I think I'm as turned on as you are, just from playing with them. Those are really a marvelous set of glands you have there."
"Why don't you take off your top so I can play with yours, too? I'd love to make you feel the way I do now."
"Okay, I will."
Pamela sat up and pulled her top off over her head. Her own breasts were pale apples compared with Carole's tawny melons, tipped with delicate pink aureola. Carole, too, removed her pajama top and palmed her taut, distended boobs. They were even larger and firmer than usual, having become engorged with blood as a result of Pamela's exquisite manipulations.
The two of them lay down breast-to-breast on the bed, wrapped in .each other's arms. For a time they lay like that, eyes closed, just brushing their breasts back and forth against each other. They luxuriated in the simple sensations of physical closeness; their hands sought out and found the secret hollows and curves where pleasure is transmitted.
"Are you a lesbian, Pamela?" Carole asked suddenly. She had to know just how deeply she was getting involved. A messy homosexual love affair was what she did not need.
Pamela's busy hands stopped moving over Carole's body, and the contented smile faded from her pretty face. She inclined her head to softly kiss the tips of Carole's breasts once again before answering.
"Why do you ask that?" Pamela said. "What difference does it make?"
Carole turned onto her back and gave a shrug, causing her swollen jugs to jiggle invitingly. "I just like to know what I'm getting into," she said.
Pamela also turned onto her back and lay staring at the ceiling, hands behind her head. "I guess you could call me bisexual," she said slowly. "Sex is sex, whether you have a prick in you or not."
There was a pause. Carole turned her head so she could see Pamela's face in profile. Moisture pooled in Pamela's wide blue eyes, and her cheeks and pouting lips still glistened with her own saliva.
"I guess that's not really true," Pamela went on. "For me, at least, there is a difference. Men turn me on as much as women, but only if I'm in the mood for men. Pm always in control with them. A really cute woman will sometimes get me all excited, regardless of what kind of mood I'm in."
A smile tugged at the corners of Carole's mouth. "And I got you excited against your will, is that it?"
"That's it." Pamela turned to face Carole once more. "I knew when I first saw you that I had to have you; before that I wasn't feeling horny, at all. It's those beautiful tits of yours."
"Oh. So big boobs turn you on, eh?" Carole allowed herself a small grin.
Pamela, too, smiled then. She began to stare once more at Carole's breasts, and an introspective look came over her face.
"Yeah. My mother had the most magnificent set of jugs I'd-ever seen, until I met you, that is. When my own started to grow, I had big hopes of looking like her. And when they stopped growing, hope turned to envy.
"You see, my Dad was always coming up to Mom and sticking his hand inside her blouse. It seems like he did it every time he walked past her, and they both seemed to enjoy it greatly. So, naturally, I got to wanting a piece of the action. And when it became obvious that I wasn't going to be like Mother... ."
"You still wanted a piece of the action," Carole finished for her.
"That's right. So, here I am!"
"And here I am," echoed Carole, with mock coyness.
"I'll say!" agreed Pamela enthusiastically, as she reached out once more to cradle Carole's bosom.
"Actually," said Carole, reaching over to pinch Pamela's nipples, "you've got nothing to be ashamed about. Your tits are much more attractive than somebody like what's-her-name's... Gayleen's."
Pamela wrinkled her fine nose and peered curiously at Carole. "You don't have to say that just to make me feel good," she said.
"I'm not. Why should I? You really do have nice fits," Carole said, running her palm over the globes in question. "And I'll bet your cunt tastes good, too."
"I don't know about that. But I'd love for you to find out."
"Terrific!" said Carole gayly. "How would you like to sit on my face?"
"Oh, I would, I would!" Pamela quickly slipped out of her shorts and panties and got up on her knees. The aroma of her already damp cunt reached Carole even before she swung one leg across Carole's chest and sat down on her cushiony breasts.
"Your tits feel really nice against my butt," Pamela purred, grinding her ass gently against Carole's breasts.
"Your butt feels really nice against my tits, too," agreed Carole. "But how about sliding up a little so I can get my tongue up your cunt?"
Obligingly, Pamela slid forward and lowered her dewy cunt onto Carole's eager mouth. Immediately she gave a little squeal as Carole's lips closed around her stiffening clit, and she grasped the headpiece of the bed with both hands.
Carole's face was buried deep in Pamela's fragrant blond bush. Frothy cunt juice mixed with her saliva and flowed clown over her cheeks and throat. Pamela's smooth, shapely thighs gripped her head just below the ears, and she could feel the trembling of Pamela's mounting excitement as she gently sucked her at. The twin pearly mounds of Pamela's breasts. bobbled and quivered above her, and with one arm she pressed her own boobs upward against Pamela's rear. Her other hand slid downward over her bare tummy and into the waistband of her pajamas to seek the succulent furrow of her own sex.
"Ohhh, Carole...!" moaned Pamela. She began to rock back and forth on her knees, grinding her, swollen cunt-lips against Carole's face. She rocked more and more energetically as she ascended the heights of sexual passion; her ass bounced repeatedly off the resilient cushion of Carole's breasts. "Eat met Eat me!" she begged, before the mounting tension choked off her voice altogether.
Carole tried with all her might to comply with Pamela's urgent demand. Her stiffened tongue poked deeply into Pamela's cunt, and slid up and down its slippery length as Pamela surged above her. Each time Pamela lunged backward, Carole gave her hard clit an extra little flick with her tongue. And at the same time, with the same rhythm, she stroked her own tingling clit.
Pamela was now racing up the peak of orgasm. She squealed and clutched at herself, mauling her own breasts and stretching tight the enlarged folds of her labia. Piquant, sweat-slicked thighs gripped Carole's face ever tighter, and her mouth and nose were smothered by dripping cunt-lips and dewy bush. Carole, too, found herself in the throes of deepening excitement, both from her earnest masturbation and the towering sight of Pamela's ecstasy.
At last a series of tiny explosions rippled through Pamela's lean form. Her thighs clenched even more tightly as she tossed back her head and cried out. Carole continued to probe her squeezing cunt deeply with her tongue as the spasms died away and Pamela began relaxing, easing downward from the pinnacle of delight. Exhausted and fulfilled, she gently eased herself away from Carole's still-tense body and collapsed in a sprawl beside her.
Carole, meanwhile, continued to rock the bed with her energetic rubbing-off. As her senses began to function again, Pamela watched with increasing interest as Carole's moisture-glazed face strained and contorted with self-induced rapture. Her gaze inevitably strayed downward to fix upon Carole's heaving, bouncing breasts, and after a time she moved to place her mouth over one of the rosy, engorged tips. Carole gave a little moan at this, and with her free hand pressed Pamela's face hard against the trembling mound.
Carole now felt the multitude of small muscle contractions that signalled imminent orgasm. She increased the pace of her masturbation to an even more frantic level as awareness left her, to be replaced with the familiar burning flood of sensation. Before she could reach that exquisite peak, however, Pamela snatched away her speeding finger and covered her throbbing cunt with her hot palm. As Carole gasped and writhed in frustration, Pamela quieted her once more by slipping two fingers deep into her slimy cave. Pamela's thumb resumed the hectic strumming of her clit.
At once that surging wave of delight returned, washing her even more rapidly toward blessed relief. Pamela increased' her stimulation to an incredible pace, sweeping Carole upward and onto that mountain of ecstasy before her benumbed brain knew what hit it. For what seemed an eternity in paradise, Carole's body surged and reverberated with the clutching spasms of her cunt.
CHAPTER TWO
Carole was up early the following day, plunging immediately into the hectic enrollment activities. There were long lines to fight, nevertheless. Carole used her own sensual variety of push and shove to make things go a little faster, but most of the students were too wrapped up in their own affairs to pay much attention to her. She tried every trick in her book of flirtation, including "accidentally" rubbing her fits across guys' backs, but was unable to speed things up for herself appreciably.
There were a number of group activities scheduled by her sorority for the next few days, mostly for the purpose of getting the residents together. She attended a house business meeting that day, where she had to stand with the other pledges and give her name and home town. She was much too concerned about her own affairs to get much out of group activities, however, and slipped away to her room at the first opportunity.
She found boxes and bags full of belongings piled upon her roommate's still unmade bed, but no roommate. There was a family portrait set up on the vacant desk, and Carole got her first look at the slim blond-haired girl who grinned over her father's shoulder. It was a large family: two girls and three boys, and Marjie was evidently the oldest. It looked like a pleasant group, Carole thought, and wondered briefly what it would be like to grow up in a large family.
Standing there by the desk, Carole had a clear view of the parking lot below the window, where bustling people continually hurried to-and-fro. As she watched, a tiny, low-slung foreign roadster wheeled in from the street. Its engine growled and gravel flew as its driver negotiated speedily around parked cars and. pedestrians. Long blond hair streamed from the cockpit, and Carole caught a glimpse of enormous sunglasses above wind-chafed cheeks. Only when the car crunched to a halt and the driver vaulted out did Carole recognize her as the girl in the portrait.
The girl smoothed her tangled locks half-heartedly, scooped up a stack of books from the passenger's side, and headed for the door with a light, swinging gait. As she disappeared from Carole's view, Carole's glance drifted back to the sport scar, sitting shiny and sleek in the sun. She called up strangely vivid recollections of the Jaguar her father had once owned: the smell and feel of real wood and leather, the blinding acceleration with the seat pressing hard against her back. It would be nice, she thought, to own something like that someday.
Abruptly there came the sound of rapid footsteps in the hall, and then a key was rattling in the lock. The door crashed open and Marjie flew in, with books stacked to her chin and sunglasses parked on the top of her head.
"Hello there," said Carole, smiling. She slouched against the window frame, outspread arms resting on the sill.
"Oh!" said Marjie, halting suddenly. "Hello yourself. You must be Carole."
"That's right. And you're Marjie Stiller, I assume."
"Sure enough." Marjie tossed her books down nonchalantly and flopped herself down with equal abandon. "Sorry I wasn't here to meet you yesterday, but my car broke down in Jackson, Mississippi."
"Golly, you must have had quite a drive. Where did you start from?"
"Macon, Georgia." Marjie pronounced this last with an exaggerated drawl, followed by a giggle. "And where are you from?"
"Wichita."
"Um, right down the road," observed Marjie. "And how do you like the place so far?"
Carole reflected briefly. "Oh, I don't know. I guess it's about what I expected. Not to fancy and not too austere."
"Really? I think it's posh. You must be used to luxury where you live."
"Somewhat," Carole allowed.
"And what have you been doing with yourself since you arrived? You haven't gone to many of the house activities, the girls say. They think you're stuck up.
Carole frowned slightly, but she could detect no hostility in Marjie's voice or manner. "Maybe I am," she said slowly. "I'm just not very social, I guess."
"That's all right," Marjie grinned, "I'm social enough for both of us."
"So I gather," Carole smiled also, and the two of them locked eyes for a moment. Marjie's gaze was open and candid, with no hint of hidden purpose. It seemed to say: I'm more than willing to be your friend, but let's not have any bullshit, okay? Carole was thinking to herself: it would be nice to have a friend I can totally relax with, especially if we're going to live together.
"Well," Carole said, "you're the boss. So what's to do around here, anyway?"
"There's a little bar across campus, The Gilded Lily, that isn't too hectic. It's kind of a hang-out for the counter-culture around here. At least not everybody who goes there is out to hustle your ass."
"Sounds interesting, but I need a shower first. What time is it, by the way?"
"About seven. And I need a shower also, plus a bite to eat. If I drink beer on an empty stomach I get unbearably silly." With a bound, Marjie was off the bed and out of the door. "See you in a few minutes," she called, and disappeared down the hall.
The shower room was empty. Most of the sorority members were already out on the streets, looking up old friends and making new ones. Carole hummed happily to herself as she soaped down and rinsed beneath the stinging spray. After toweling herself carefully, she removed her bathing cap and wrapped the towel around herself, knotting it firmly above her plump breasts.
Marjie was just in the process of undressing when Carole reentered the room. She stood bent double at the waist, her ample rear towards the door, and was totally nude except for socks and shoes, which she was just in the process of untying.
"What a sight!" giggled Carole, easing the door shut behind her.
"My best feature," said Marjie proudly, peering at her impishly through the peaked arch of shapely ivory-skinned thighs. She straightened abruptly and kicked off her shoes. "Speaking of best features, you've got a couple of prize-winners, yourself."
"You don't mean... these, do you?" Carole grinned, tossing aside her towel and giving her boobs a shake.
"Oh heavens, no. I didn't even notice... those," Marjie said, mocking Carole by shaking her own tiny boobs. "But come to think of it, with those you don't need anything else."
The look she fixed upon Carole's pendulous, pear-shaped mounds was mock-critical, but gradually her hazel irises began to show the gleam of deeper feeling.
Carole spread her hands across the crests of her jouncy twin mountains and pressed them against her ribs. "I wonder if it's possible," she said jovially, glancing over her shoulder, "to move some of this... back there... "
Marjie crossed the room and stood with her nipples just inches away from the backs of Carole's hands. The nipples were rosy and erect, rising and falling with her deepening breath. Carole swiveled her head to look once more into Marjie's eyes, and as she did so, dropped her hands to her sides. Her constricted breasts immediately sprang back to their normal proud carriage, so that her soft, fleshy nipples just grazed Marjie's taut teats.
Shamelessly, Marjie laid her own hand on Carole's breast. "I like them for just the way they are," she said earnestly. Their eyes met, and Carole saw for the first time the desire smoldering in Marjie's wide, searching gaze.
Carole's body answered for her. The nipple of her left breast prodded insolently against Marjie's palm as a warm wave of sensation spread outward from her touch. Carole stiffened involuntarily as the delightful tingling flowed down her flat tummy to her awakening pussy. She inhaled sharply, relishing the sweet feeling, and closed her eyes. Marjie began to move her hand in small circles, massaging Carole's distended tit with increasing pressure.
Carole sighed. "Umm... that feels nice." And it did indeed. The relaxed feeling of comradeship she had begun to feel for the other girl dissolved easily into erotic delight. Her body was responding. enthusiastically to Marjie's caress and her mind was becoming equally receptive, She could tell, as beatific sensuality swept through her, that they were going to be good friends.
Encouraged, Marjie increased the gyrations of her palm, kneading, pawing Carole's ripe melon, creating a banquet of glowing sensation. Carole moaned and began to rotate her torso in a counter-point to Marjie's rubbing, mashing her swelling lobe against the other's hot palm. At the same time, her hands came up the blond's narrow flanks to brush those sensitive hot spots just below the curve of her ribs. Marjie trembled under her probing, exploring touch: her panting quickened and she grasped Carole's bosom with both hands, squeezing her tender mounds convulsively as Carole continued to titillate the soft flesh of her tummy.
Carole's fingertip traced a grazing path across the flat of her belly, tickling the tiny hairs into erection and screwing itself into the convoluted folds of her navel. Marjie gasped, and Carole slid her other hand upward to her tiny bud of a breast to flick the rock-hard button of her nipple. Carole marvelled at the size and firmness of Marjie's nipple, and she tweaked and thumbed it delicately, occasionally sliding her thumbnail across its rough, engorged tip. Marjie wriggled and squirmed as twinges of pleasure-pain swept through her slight body, all the while clutching, stroking, and manipulating Carole's hot swelling boobs.
Abruptly, Marjie slid her hands around Carole's back and pressed their bodies together into crushing embrace. Carole's large, magnificent bosom smothered Marjie's peaked buds. Their nipples met as their mouths kissed in passionate lust. Marjie's slim, pale thigh slipped between Carole's legs to press against her livid cunt. Carole arched her body as she squeezed the slick ivory column between her own thighs, mixing her cunt-juice with Marjie's.
The two of them: one dark, tanned, and sumptuously curved; the other slim, supple, and blonde, writhed and groped at one another in the piddle of the floor. Little moans and grunts of animal gratification came from constricted, panting throats as the their thighs rubbed and surged against each other's pelvic bones. Their hands darted across heaving backs to clutch smooth, sweating shoulders and quivering buttocks. Carole's cascading auburn tresses tangled and entwined with Marjie's blond curls among their superimposed, gyrating breasts as their tongues parried and riposted between succulent, eager lips.
"Carole," breathed Marjie between kisses. "I want to come. Quickly, on the bed!" She began to guide their joined bodies toward the bed, stopping between each step to draw her thigh again across Carole's inflamed cunt-lips.
"Yes! Oh, yes!" moaned Carole. "I want to come, too. Together... "
Marjie's legs touched the edge of her bed and she flopped backward, drawing Carole down on top of her. Quickly Carole turned her body and flung her leg across Marjie's upturned face. She lowered her crotch upon the other girl's waiting mouth, feeling at once Marjie's hot, exploring tongue sliding deeply into her aching cunt. She arched her back and wriggled with delight as Marjie's insistent probing sent spasms of luxury into the throbbing cavern of her sex.
While Marjie mouth-fucked her sweet honey-pot, Carole reached under her plump hips and lifted. She buried her face in Marjie's blond bush and took her erect joy-button gently between her lips. Marjie cried out in ecstasy, and her perfumed pussy leaped against Carole's face, as Carole sucked deeply on the sensitive membrane. Marjie's thick, inflamed labia engulfed her nose as if to draw her whole head into the demanding depths.
Carole tightened her grip on Marjie's full, firm ass, squeezing and kneading the plump flesh and allowing her fingertips to brush the crinkly pucker of her asshole. She teased the tip of Marjie's clit with her tongue, flicking it, laving it, sucking deeply and loudly upon the savory polyp. Marjie's lower body went wild in her grip, thrashing and bouncing ever faster. With one hand still clutching Marjie's butt, Carole quickly rammed her other thumb into Marjie's asshole and slid her fingers into her yearning emit. She fluttered and wriggled her fingers as Marjie squirmed, while at the same time relishing the feel of Marjie's tongue in her own cunt. She tried to grip the rough, elusive membrane with her tightening cunt muscles; tried to draw it into her to touch the hard knob of her cervix.
Together, their leaping, jolting, twitching bodies soared toward ,blessed release. Locked in sixty-nine, their bodies-became one fervent mass. Pleasure and sensation caromed In an ever-tightening circle: from Marjie's probing tongue, to Carole's throbbing slit, to Carole's sucking lips, down the turgid stem of Marjie's clit, and back again.
Together, as one, the two of them rode that carousel of mounting excitement. Their straining, contracting muscles locked them into a single mindless unit of sensation. Frenzied, bucking orgasm came out of nowhere at last. Though they both tried to ride the surging beast, giving and receiving pleasure to the last, they were finally torn apart by the unrelenting fury of their own passion.
* * *
"Wow!" said Marjie, long after both of them had collapsed into unmoving bliss.
Carole giggled, and snuggled closer to Marjie's lean body. "A nice way to get to know your roommate."
"I'll say. Especially when the roommate is as nice as you." Marjie grinned at her through tangled, sweaty locks. "And as talented," she added.
"You're not bad yourself," laughed Carole. She absently rubbed at her cunt, which was still moist and tingling from Marjie's tongue. Marjie watched her thoughtfully for a moment.
"Carole?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you fuck around very much?"
"Funny you should ask."
"Why's that?"
"I'm usually not this easy."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that. There are all kinds of creatures around here that are going to be after someone like you. Some of them even look human."
"I think I can take care of myself," Carole said, hiding a smile. So far she had taken care of herself, her roommate, and her sorority president. And classes hadn't even started yet.
"Well, to each her own," Marjie said, as if reading Carole's thought. She rolled off the bed and stood up and stretched. "I'm a little bit of a nympho, myself."
Carole wrinkled her nose. She couldn't start getting involved in other peoples' problems. It was Marjie, however, who changed the subject.
"Do you still feel like going to the Gilded Lily?" she asked, rummaging around on the floor for her discarded clothes.
"Well, I'm not very big on wild night life," Carole said. "But I guess I ought to check it out." Actually she was a little bit curious, and she was getting more and more used to Marjie's company.
At Marjie's insistence, the two of them dressed in the shabbiest clothes they could find. "If those freaks get the idea we're from a sorority, we'll be laughed right out of the place," she explained.
Carole and Marjie strolled across the darkened campus. The first few leaves of autumn skittered about their feet, tossed by the still-pleasant evening breeze. Numerous other couples and groups could be seen and heard upon the campus walkways, lending a carnival atmosphere that wouldn't abate until school was well into its second week. As they approached the neon-lit cluster of bars and hang-outs that hugged the edge of campus, the air became alive with shrill voices and the raucous blare of a jukebox coming from a shabby, unpainted wooden building. A wooden sign, cut in the shape of a flower, with dirty, peeling yellow paint, proclaimed their destination.
The two of them crowded their way past standing groups of beer drinkers near the door and slid into One of the few empty booths which lined the walls. After a time, a bearded, harried-looking waiter came around and took their order for two beefs. Both girls sat back, sipping the refreshing brew, and took in the sights and sounds of the place.
Carole felt a trifle overwhelmed by the sheer bulk of humanity in the place. It seemed like there were more people standing than sitting. Nearly every square foot of floor space was taken up by people holding amber glasses and pitchers, pushing and laughing and chattering happily. Carole had had no idea what it would be like to be one of twenty thousand or so young men and women, all of them flocking and milling in night spots like this one all over town. What a shock it must be to the townspeople every year when school started.
Looking around, Carole saw freaks of all descriptions. Long, kinky hair swirled over wildly colored shirts. Bearded faces grinned at one another. Girls in billowing smocks and patched jeans bounced and giggled, soaking up beer and rock music. Stone-faced, hollow-eyed hangers-on sat silently around littered tables, staring at those cavorting around them. Tight-lipped pool players warily circled their miniature green battlegrounds, swimming in the rich odor of sweat and beer and stale cigarettes. Gaunt, bloodshot eyes raked over Carole's soft, jutting boobs, which swung unbound beneath her thin, tight sweater.
Marjie seemed to revel in the roaring, brawling menagerie. She happily sipped her suds and cast speculative glances at the strutting male bodies which passed by. Carole pulled somberly on her own beer, silently scorning the spaced-out boys and girls who made lewd passes at one another. Carole noted that Marjie seemed to blend in with the discordant spectacle. She maintained a casual, loose pose, smiling as always, occasionally sliding a comment or observation Carole's way. Carole found herself wishing that she could relax as easily, but she also realized that Marjie's personality fit this place much better than hers.
At any rate, Carole felt that she could never be a part of this freaky world. She had been curious, and was grateful for the chance to accompany Marjie into this den of iniquity, but now it was with distaste that she surveyed the spectacle. She could see that fast living and indulgence were all that interested these people, attitudes that were alien to her upbringing and ambitions.
"Hi, there, chickies! Mind if me and my friend join you?" A tall, frizzy-haired boy in embroidered blue jeans stood casually beside their booth, swaying slightly with the beat of the music. He wore a practiced, insolent grin, and his unabashed gaze was fastened upon the delicious swell of Carole's boobs. Carole wrinkled her nose and looked away.
"Sure, why not?" said Marjie, and bounced over to make room. The freak turned to wave at someone across the room. "You don't mind too much, do you, Carole?" Marjie whispered across the table.
Carole made an emphatic point of saying nothing. She slid over sullenly as another guy threaded his way across the packed barroom and flopped down beside her. This one was fat and rather ugly. A bushy moustache partially camouflaged . shiny red patches of pimples on his cheeks. He, like the first one, smelled strongly of beer and sweat. Carole scooted still farther over against the dirty wall and tried to impale the creature with her most scathing glare.
"This one seems somewhat reluctant, Art," said the fat one, leering indecently at Carole. "My name's Fred, chickie, what's yours?"
"That's Carole," interjected Marjie, "And my name's Marjie. Would you gentlemen care to refill our glasses?"
Fred began to do so from the pitcher he had brought with him. His narrowed eyes darted back and forth from the task at hand to Carole's tits. Finally, with a scowl, Carole leaned forward and hunched her shoulders, concealing herself with folded arms. Fred gave a long-suffering sigh as he handed Marjie her glass.
"I told Art, here, that I wanted the one with the big fits. I see now that I should have made a further stipulation about willingness."
Art laughed. "You always say that if you can only get close to a woman, your hidden charm will knock them out. I've tried to tell you that you have all the hidden charm of a manure spreader."
Marjie giggled at this, and Carole allowed herself a snort of agreement.
"You see," said Art, noting Carole's reaction, "you should knock it off with the two-bit words. She obviously digs earthy humor."
"Okay," said Fred, still affable. "Say, Carole, honey... would you like to see my turd collection?"
"Oh. I thought you were wearing it."
Fred stopped grinning only for an instant. "You're right, Art. She does dig insults. She probably sharpens her tongue at the same place she gets her tits enlarged."
Carole felt herself getting quite angry, now. But, she felt the situation had deteriorated to the point where further participation was beneath her. Besides, she had no right to ruin Marjie's evening. With a effort she refrained from vocalizing what was on her mind, and carefully ignored both men. Fred opened his mouth to expound further, but evidently thought better of it. He got up and moved off, taking his pitcher with him.
After a brief, uncomfortable silence, Art and Marjie began to chat in an increasingly friendly manner. Carole silently stared into space, and they soon forgot about her.
As her composure returned, the blood drained slowly from Carole's face and her shoulders returned to their proud, upright carriage. Her roving, dispassionate stare began to move from one cavorting figure to the next, and she began a favorite pastime of reading the hidden meanings in peoples' actions. Particularly amusing to her was the way both the boys and girls pretended not to look at each other, all the while stealing sidelong glances when they thought they were unobserved.
Time passed. Art and Marjie kept getting closer and closer together on the seat opposite, and Carole did nothing to distract them. Instead, her. gaze kept falling upon a guy at the end of the bar who, like her, was taking no part in the mirthful goings-on.
There was nothing outstanding about his looks or dress. What set him apart was his calm, nearly expressionless face, and his steady gaze, which played over the crowd as did hers. A small notebook was open on the bar before him, and occasionally he would write a line or two. His eyes met hers once, and she found them cool and penetrating. She returned the look expressionlessly, and was mildly surprised that he didn't even glance at her breasts. Instead, he flashed a brief smile and bent once more to his notes.
She found herself wishing that he would come over and sit, and wondered at herself. She even had an urge to go over to him, a feeling that was entirely new. She tried to evaluate why should an idle glance from a rather plain-looking stranger affect her thus? He was aloof, indifferent, as she was. What-ever he was writing was obviously more engrossing than the clamorous surroundings. But if that was true, why was he here? For that matter, why was she here?
Carole dismissed her wonderings with a mental shrug. She rose to leave, unnoticed by Art but not by Marjie, who gave her an apologetic smile and a little wave of farewell. Feeling once more her old confident self, she picked her way to the door, being careful to keep her ass and boobs out of everyone's reach.
Walking alone across the nearly deserted campus, Carole began to reflect upon how easily and casually Marjie handled herself in sexually charged situations. She was never pushy or compulsive about it. Her sexuality was as much a part of her personality as her smile, but she neither expected nor demanded anything in return. Yet, she was always ready when the opportunity presented itself. Carole had a long ways to go if she was ever going to have as few hang-ups as Marjie. But then, her ambitions led in a somewhat different direction. It would be nice to be able to relax as easily as Marjie, but there were other things, more important.
* * *
Walking back to the sorority from the Gilded Lily, Carole had paused to sit upon a deserted bench in a secluded part of the campus. A small lake stretched out before her, sparkling with hundreds of lights from the campus buildings. Distant voices and muffled music came to her from the darkness.
It had been a hectic day for her, full of new experiences and strange faces, and she savored the chance to relax fully for the first time since arriving. This day she .had been merely another student among thousands, struggling with the hassle of enrollment and orientation, fighting the long lines and administrative shortcomings that plagued all large universities at such times. Tomorrow, however, her personal quest would begin in earnest. She felt complete confidence in her ability to see it through. To a world that demanded excellence and determination she Offered her perfect body and her iron will, and woe to those who would obstruct her path to the top.
"Hello. Do you mind if I join you?"
Carole was startled as the low, even voice came to her from nearby. Turning her head in the direction of the sound, she saw a young man standing in the pathway which circled the small lake. Even in the dim reflected light she saw at once that it was the guy she had seen at the bar earlier, writing in his notebook. Her first reaction was naturally one of suspicion.
"Who are you?" she demanded of the motionless figure.
"Name's Tim Hamilton. I saw you in the bar. You looked like you weren't having any more fun than I was, so I thought I'd follow you and see what else we had in common."
"Come closer," she said, her voice softening somewhat. He complied, coining over to stand at the end of the bench on which she sat. The near darkness made his plain features even plainer, but with one exception: his eyes glowed like burning coals in the flickering light.
"What do you want?" she said.
"I just wanted to meet you. It's perfectly natural, you know, for a guy to be attracted to someone as pretty as you. What's your name?"
Carole hesitated. She had thought herself disinterested in meeting anyone who could not further her interests in some obvious fashion, but something about this fellow held her attention.
"Carole," she said. "Carole Garth. You might as well sit down, but I have to be going soon."
"Okay." He sat. "Now tell me, what didn't you like about the Gilded Lily?"
What a peculiar way to begin a conversation, thought Carole. She smiled in spite of herself.
"That's kind of personal question," she said. "Why do you want to know?"
"It's part of little survey rye been taking, just far my own information. It seems to me that it's an incredible waste of energy: all those people playing their own little games, trying to get laid and have a good time, but not knowing quite how to go about it."
"And do you know how to have a good time?" she wanted to know.
"I know how to not have a good time," he said slowly. "And that's just one of the ways, at least for me."
"Then what were you doing there?"
"I might ask you the same question."
"I went because my girlfriend insisted," said Carole. "And because I was curious, I guess. Now what about you?"
"Same reason. Curious."
"And did you learn anything?' "Maybe. It's all written down in my notebook here. Now I just have to make sense of it all."
"Why do you do that?" she asked. "Keep a note-book, I mean."
"Some people do embroidery or skydive. I write."
There was a pause. A sudden breeze swirled and rustled about them, and Carole clutched her arms below her breasts to ward off the chill.
"It's getting cold," she said. "And I have an early class tomorrow."
"You have to go," Tim observed. "Was it something I said?"
"No, no." She stood and looked down at him curiously. "Actually it was kind of refreshing to talk to a guy who doesn't stare at my tits all the time."
He laughed a deep booming laugh which echoed back at them. "Believe me," he said, "it wasn't easy. Will I have another chance?"
"Maybe," she said, favoring him with a brief smile. "Don't count on it, though. I'm kind of unpredictable that way."
"So am I, Carole, so am I. You can probably find me in the Gilded Lily if that's what you want. Take care now."
"You, too." With that Carole turned and walked away, leaving him there on the bench. When she had climbed the hill overlooking the lake she turned and saw him still sitting there.
He's unique, she thought suddenly, and then wondered at the thought. What was it about him that interested her? She stood a moment longer, then shrugged and turned to walk off into the night.
CHAPTER THREE
Carole awakened as the first golden spears of sun-light cleared the university skyline to the east and spattered across her bedroom wall. She became fully alert almost immediately and reached over to switch off her alarm, which was just on the verge of sounding. It was very peaceful lying there; the quiet was broken only by the occasional whisper of passing cars and the equally soft padding of footsteps outside her door.
Curiously, on this first day of classes, her first thoughts were of the serious, direct young man she had met the night before. She had never met a guy like him before, probably because her perfect physical presence attracted only those men who were totally confident of their own looks. Tim Hamilton's beauty was of an inner nature, and he must be extremely sure of himself to approach someone like her.
Once in a while in her eventful lifetime, for just a few seconds at a time, Carole had looked favorably upon the notion of finding the ideal mate and settling down. Knowing that it was next to impossible, she had dreamed of someone who could fulfill her every need just by his presence, and make her forget, the tormenting ambition which drove her. This, she told herself, was just one of those times. And, sure enough, the feeling passed as quickly as it had come.
Carole rolled onto her side and peered across the brightening room at Marjie, who was curled up under rumpled blankets, sleeping like a dreaming child. Carole wondered briefly what had taken place the night before between Marjie and that guy. It had been very late when Marjie shuffled in. Well, she reflected, whatever had happened wasn't disturbing Marjie's sleep any.
With a sigh, Carole flung off her bedclothes and was once again delighted by the sight of her nude body. Primed and charged it was, all ready to magnetize the eyes and electrify the minds of horny professors. She stretched luxuriously, knotting her muscles, which rippled and bulged beneath her voluptuous curves. She yawned and relaxed once more, reveling in the delicious sensation of warmth that sleep had left her with.
Hopping out of bed, Carole shrugged into her robe and glided off to the shower room, which was still nearly deserted. Shrouds of steam swirled around a couple of nubile bodies, underclassmen like herself who were shackled with early classes. And, like herself, they were beautiful: the cream of the new crop of freshman women who had pledged PIE because of its unofficial reputation for being the sexiest sorority on campus. The two of them eyed her silently as she shed her robe and stepped into the hot spray. She smiled noncommittally back at them as she proudly lifted her breasts into the stinging needles of water.
Marjie was stirring sleepily by the time Carole had finished her shower and returned to the room. The thick covers were drawn up so that only a fluff of blond hair showed against her pastel pillowcase. Carole immediately began dressing.
"What time is it?" came Marjie's muffled voice from beneath the covers.
"Ten till eight." Carole rummaged around in her neatly-packed dresser for her medium-length brown corduroy skirt. This she drew out, following it with a billowing diaphanous white blouse. From another drawer she extracted a thin, low-cupped, pale yellow bra.
Carole was carefully brushing her long auburn mane into a fluffy, shining cascade when Marjie sat up and pried open bloodshot eyes.
"What time did you say it was?"
Carole turned around and made an elaborate point of consulting the oversized clock on the desk between their beds. "It's now three minutes before eight," she said with a brief, superior smile. "What did you do last night, anyway?"
Marjie stared at her blankly and then shook her head violently to clear away the cotton of sleep. "My god!" she exclaimed suddenly, as if the information had finally sunk in. "I've got an eight-thirty class!" Without another word, she flung back the covers and dashed naked into the hall.
Carole watched her go with a grunt of amusement, then turned her attention back to the business of dressing. Dropping her robe onto the bed, she got her body powder from the dresser and applied the silky scented stuff liberally to her underarms, her breasts, and the coy brown triangle of hair below her flat belly.
She turned again to the mirror where she made a final, admiring inspection of her beautiful body. Her pride in her looks was certainly justified, she told herself. She was merely facing the facts as they stood. And they certainly did stand for themselves. Carole smiled at herself in the mirror and gave her nipples a quick, dainty tweak.
She picked up the bra and hooked it around herself, sliding her arms through the straps. The skimpy triangular cups forced her yielding mounds upward into sexy spheres, so that their swelling inside curves met in a deep cleavage. The edges of the thin cloth just failed to conceal her large, dark-tinted aureola; the inner points of the cups met to form a bridge above the sweet-smelling canyon between her tits.
Next, she slipped into the thin rayon blouse, noting with satisfaction that the color of her bra came through to highlight the sumptuous swell of her breasts. Pearly buttons came up the front, which divided into wide lapels just below the dimple of her cleavage. She stepped into the heavy brown skirt and pulled it up over her bare hips and the hem came to mid-thigh, a trifle below the range of current fad, but hardly severe.
She stood back arid modeled before the mirror, adjusting the tailored garments carefully to her curves to get the most alluring effect. All in all, she thought as she stood in profile, she looked exactly like a nubile, innocent schoolgirl. The slightly racy bra was the only divergence from this, her chosen theme. Of course, she knew that it would take plain clothes indeed to obscure her overpowering sexuality.
"Wow, no underwear, huh?" Marjie stood in the doorway, arms folded across her bare chest. She grinned lecherously at Carole.
Carole blushed in spite of herself. "You could have knocked," she pouted.
"What? Knock on my own door when it isn't even closed?" Marjie eased on into the room. "You getting set for some heavy action?"
"What do you mean by that?" Carole was still huffy.
"Well, last night you were so... chilly. And now you're going around bare-assed. What kind of woman are you, anyway?"
"I'll tell you this. I don't spread my legs for every smelly creep who buys me a beer." Carole looked at her steadily, with just a hint of flame in her eyes.
Marjie flinched. "Okay, okay. I won't try to figure you out if you won't try to figure me out. Anyway, Art's no creep. I know a creep when I meet one."
"Well, I didn't mean... "
"Relax," Marjie said. "It's forgotten. Say, where did you get that kinky bra, anyway?"
"Some little boutique back home. Do you really think it's that obvious?"
"Sure, but there's nothing wrong with that." Marjie's face lit up suddenly. "Say, would like something to go with it?" She crossed the room to her dresser and pawed through the top drawer, coming up with a bit of red silk which she held before Carole's inquiring gaze. "Crotchless panties," she proclaimed.
Carole took the frilly thing and examined it speculatively. "You really have no shame whatsoever, Marjie," she observed as she rubbed the smooth material between her fingers.
Marjie giggled. "Try them on," she suggested.
Obediently, Carole stooped and stepped carefully into the filmy garment. She hiked her skirt and pulled it up, fitting the leg straps carefully alongside the gentle mound of her pussy. "Ooh," she breathed, "That feels strange:"
"Wear them if you want to," said Marjie. By this time, she, too, had finished dressing and gathered her notebooks. "Are you ready to go? I'm starved!"
"Ready." Carole took a final fond look at herself in the mirror before scooping up her books and following Marjie out the door.
There were few girls in the dining room at this hour. Carole chose a simple fare of dry cereal and orange juice and sat down in the nearly empty hall. She paid no attention to the small group chattering noisily at a nearby table. Marjie followed her, her tray loaded down with bacon, scrambled eggs, potatoes and coffee.
"Well, if it isn't the bitch with the million-dollar fits."
Marjie looked up, startled. The voice had come from the next table, and Carole recognized it instantly.
"You talking to me, Gayleen?" cracked Marjie. Someone else giggled.
"Shut up, you little wimp!" Gayleen's nasal voice whined in the empty hall. The sounds of clinking silverware suddenly became ominously absent.
"Aren't you going to say good morning to your sisters, Carole honey?"
Carole kept her back turned toward Gayleen and resumed eating. She loudly crunched a mouthful of cereal. Marjie took the hint and also began eating.
"What a darling little outfit you have on," Gayleen continued. "Aren't you afraid that cute bra is a little too subtle, though?"
Carole had had enough. She dropped her spoon and stood up, whirling around to face her antagonist. Her eyes were cruel slits, with only a trace of the fury she felt burning between the lids.
"I won't browbeat, you slut!" Carole said. "You should save it for all your little friends, there. And speaking of subtlety, you have all the subtlety of a case of advanced leprosy. The same comparison also applies to your looks."
Carole kicked her chair out of the way and strode toward the door, followed closely by Marjie. Gayleen's comeback, when it came, rattled uselessly behind them. One of Gayleen's companions, however, managed to force a chuckle.
Carole was strolling unconcernedly along the busy walk when Marjie overtook her and fell into step beside her. They walked in silence for a time, both of them heading for the same psychology class. Carole was anxious to forget the incident in the dining hall; she could not afford to let it cloud her perceptions. Marjie, too, seemed content to avoid the subject.
It was a beautiful, clear fall morning, with the temperature in the sixties and the sun shining brightly. The campus streets were jammed with pedestrian and vehicle traffic, all of it streaming up the hill toward the heart of campus. The scene was bright and cheerful, down to the eager glints in the eyes of passing students. Carole was not too preoccupied with her own concerns to notice the constant turning of male heads as she passed. It seemed as if her choice of apparel was having immediate effect, and she noticed many double-takes and widened glances from those whose eyes fell upon the lemon-tinted outline of her swinging breasts. The walkways had almost emptied by the time the two of them reached the steps of the hulking humanities building. Not wanting to be late, Carole did double-time down the hall to her classroom, with Marjie floating along in her wake. Turning into the correct lecture hall, Carole paused at the head of the aisle, scanning the crowded room for a strategically located seat. She spotted one near the end of the first row and headed purposefully towards it Marjie followed her silently and dropped into another vacant,. seat a few places down. She continued watching Carole all the while with a look of vague, bemused concentration.
As soon as they were in their place's, a tall, athletic-looking man in stylish clothes strode into the room from a side door and plopped a stack of note-books down on the podium. He leaned against the podium with his ankles crossed and surveyed the class thoughtfully as, gradually, the roar of student voices subsided to a nervous rustle. His keen gaze continued to sweep the gallery of upturned, expectant faces, slowly making its way from the back of the room. Carole grew nervous as the sweep of his eyes approached the front row, but she was ready with her most engaging smile when at last they reached her. The teacher's eyes lingered for a moment, caught by the subtle flash of color beneath her semi-transparent blouse. In that instant, Carole blinked her long lashes invitingly and leisurely raised a knee to cross her leg, giving him a brief, unimpaired glimpse of her red-bracketed crotch. His eyebrows rose perceptibly, but he recovered immediately and shuffled around behind the podium.
He began at once his introductory presentation, announcing himself as Mr. Abbott. He gave an outline of the course, describing texts and grading procedures and so on. It seemed to Carole that Mr. Abbott was consciously avoiding looking at her, but when he had finished writing his office hours on the board, his sharp, speculative gaze fell upon her once more.
"Be sure to come to my office if you have any questions or problems in the course," he said loudly. His eyes remained upon Carole as she parted her lips sensually and gave her shoulders a gentle shake, causing her jutting tits to ripple the opalescent material of her blouse. Coyly, she lowered her eyes and began to slide her fountain pen in and out of its case very slowly.
Mr. Abbott cleared his throat and blinked, and finally managed to pry his eyes away from Carole. He quickly wrapped up the meeting, gathered up his unused notebooks, and vanished as abruptly as he had appeared. The class dissolved at once with a sudden, disorganized swell of voices and slamming books.
Marjie, who of course had not missed anything that happened, joined Carole as they filed slowly out of the auditorium.
"That was a nice show you put on for the teacher," Marjie told her. "You ought to be in the movies."
"Maybe I will be." Carole responded to her for the first time since they had left the house that morning. Her first encounter with destiny was over.
"Is that what you're after? Seriously?"
"Sure, why not? I'm after all I can get, and I know just how to go about it."
Marjie stopped in her tracks. "Partly true," she said.
Carole also stopped and regarded Marjie curiously. "What do you mean by that?" Marjie stared off into the distance, as if making up her mind about something. "Well, there are a couple of things," she said finally. "First, Gayleen may have been right about your being too obvious."
Carole snorted and began walking once again, with Marjie in hot pursuit.
"Really, now," Marjie insisted. "I mean most of these teachers have seen your act before, and all sorts of variations on it. If they play along with you, it's ,only because they want to. Only they want to control the situation."
"No, Marjie, it's me they want. I know what I look like. I really didn't have much to do with that, but I know how to use it. Nobody who's mad with lust is going to be in control of any situation."
"That'll be true as long as you're dealing with tit-men," Marjie said. "I mean most of the guys you've met evaluate a girl just on the size of their tits, but the men around here are a little more sophisticated. Some of them have more exotic tastes... "
Carole stopped once again and looked down. "Look at me, Marjie. Big tits are a constant factor in the universe. If anyone knows that, it's me. What's so exotic about some animal wanting to feel me up."
"That's what I'm saying, Carole. Some of them will want to do more that just feel you up. More of what is anybody's guess. You just have to be ready for anything."
They resumed walking. Now it was Carole's turn to stare off into the distance. She was thinking that in the brief time she had known Marjie, she had never seen her so serious about anything. Why was she so concerned? Could it be that Marjie was actually concerned over her, or could there be another.. reason? Maybe even sweet little Marjie was worried about the competition she represented.
"Look," Marjie said. "I have another class right away, so I have to hustle. At least think about what I said, huh?"
Carole's next class was Freshman English, taught by a Mrs. Hilbert. She was quite a change from the virile-looking Mr. Abbott: a prim, uptight lady who wore a calf-length dress and a severe-looking bun atop her homely head. She was totally sexless in both appearance and temperament, and none of Carole's outstanding charms would have any effect on her. Carole spent the time studying up on the class-change procedure in the University handbook.
Her only other class that day was band, a large class under old Dr. Forster. She had no chance to meet the old guy in person that first day, but she knew that, as a candidate for drum major, she would have opportunities for that later. He looked rather lonely, she decided, just the type to appreciate a loving, understanding person to "talk" to. Marjie had told her to be ready for anything, and making love to an old man might be a strange experience. It didn't seem like anything to worry about, though. Dr. Forster was vulnerable, like all men, and she was just the person to cash in on his weakness.
Returning to her sorority afterward, Carole found an envelope from the Dean's office in her mailbox. It turned out to be a form letter which went through the usual welcoming bullshit and went on to inform her of her academic counseling session, which was scheduled for later that very day. She was instructed to report to a Dr. Cameron, and the meeting was only forty-five minutes away. Puzzled by the suddenness of it all, she decided to ask someone else about it.
She showed the letter to an upper-class girl named Julie Gibbons and asked her what it meant.
"Oh, it's nothing much," Julie said. "Just a little question-and-answer session where they ask you about your schedule and if you have any problems or anything. Strictly bullshit."
"Who's this Dr. Cameron?" Carole wanted to know.
"Dr. Cameron?" Julie seemed surprised. "Why, he's chairman of the English department. Stuffy sort, if I remember. He usually doesn't talk to mere freshmen."
"But I'm not even in the English department," Carole objected. "I don't even know what my major is going to be."
Julie shrugged. "Oh, that doesn't matter. You'll find out that not much makes sense around here. The ways of the Big University are mysterious and fraught with red tape. That's the reason you almost didn't get this in time for your meeting. Now I have to run or I'll be late for class."
"Oh, one more thing," Carole stopped her. "Can this meeting actually do me any good?"
"Well, your academic advisor can make it easy for you to change classes. It pays to butter them up just for that. Good luck and I'll see you later."
Carole thanked Julie's retreating back and then trotted upstairs to her room. Marjie hadn't returned yet, so she flopped down on her bed for a bit of relaxation. Immediately her mind was alive with scheming. The interview was a stroke of luck: a chance to get around dear sexless Mrs. Hilbert and get in good with a campus bigwig at the same time. She began to consider her plan of attack carefully.
Julie had said that this Dr. Cameron was a stuffy old bureaucrat. He was probably egocentric and used to getting his way. Very well, then, she would let him seduce her. Her thoughts turned to what clothes would put his mind on the right track.
She got up after a moment and stripped. Gratefully, she removed the tight little bra and allowed her heavy, crushed boobs to bob freely as she surveyed her closet rack for the right outfit. She selected a severe-looking blue suit and an old blouse from her high-school days that had frilly lace down the front and at the cuffs. These she put on over regular bra, panties, and slip. She also wore a garter belt with full-length black nylons. Carefully, she gathered her long hair into a tight bun and put on her reading glasses. The effect, as she inspected herself in the mirror, was altogether chaste and virginal. She dashed down the hall to the bathroom and quickly brushed her teeth, also taking the time to dab on a trace of demure perfume. Very conventional, but probably just the thing to get the old fart salivating properly. As she left the wash room and started downstairs, she began practicing her scholarly bearing. She walked with short, minced steps, found a large manila folder which he opened and spread before him.
"Now then, Carole... " he said. "This little meeting of ours is meant to be a casual, get-acquainted conference. Just to add a personal touch, you understand." He leaned back in his swivel chair and pressed his fingers into an arch. "I realize that the University can seem quite impersonal and perplexing to some freshmen, and this is our opportunity to meet with the incoming class for the purpose of answering any questions you may have. It also allows us to keep in touch with the ideas and attitudes young people have."
"I quite understand, Dr. Cameron," said Carole clearly, earnestly meeting his gaze. "I welcome the opportunity for personal contact with the people who are guiding my education."
"Excellent!" boomed the doctor. "I suppose we could start with your own goals and ambitions. What is it that you hope to achieve here?"
Carole leaned slightly forward in her chair, resting her elbows-upon her thighs, and peered over the tops of her spectacles. With just the right amount of hesitation in her voice, she spoke: "Well, of course I want to get prepared for a career and all that. But what's most important to me right now is to meet people I can share my thoughts with. I'm an only child, you see, and the few friends I had In high school were so... shallow, if you know what I mean."
Dr. Cameron smiled encouragingly at her, his eyes sparkling as they took in her serious expression and drifted downward along the lines of her suit to linger briefly upon the prominent, camouflaged mound of her breasts. "I understand perfectly," he intoned. "The mind constantly yearns for the intellectual companionship of equals. That is just one of the reasons we, as educators, must provide support and encouragement to our students."
Carole nodded and smiled at him for the first time. She clasped her hands in the protected, midnight-blue valley of her tightly clamped thighs. She looked around, a cheerful, innocent look on her face, and indicated the long shelves of books. "I'd just love to have a library like this some day. It must be very satisfying to possess so much knowledge."
He chuckled merrily and leaned forward, resting his muscular arms on the desktop. His large, blunt fingers tapped the smooth surface for emphasis as he said: "Such knowledge, of course, is attained only by long and careful study. It is my job to make this possible for my students. And, it's a great personal pleasure to have students as eager and attractive as you."
Carole managed to fake a blush and turned shyly away. He was starting to zero in. Any time now she would have him. "Oh, my," she said softly. "You must have many students who are smarter than me. I know I'm not pretty, either."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the doctor, getting to his feet. He skirted the desk and walked over near her chair. "If you were to take off those glasses and let down your hair, you'd be as beautiful as any cheerleader."
She looked up at him, feigning discomfort. "Oh, I--I couldn't... "
"Sure you can!" He walked around behind her. "Why don't you try it now? Let me convince you."
"Well, if you really think it will help... " Carole reached up and began to fumble with the clasp that held her bun.
"Let me help," he offered. He reached out and brushed her hands away, quickly removing the barette. "You really have lovely hair," he said smoothing it down over her shoulders and back. "Why, it's practically screaming to be allowed to fall freely and be seen by all. Now, take off your glasses, and I'll get a mirror." He glided around behind his desk and procured a hand mirror from the drawer as Carole smiled secretly to herself. He even had props.
He practically hopped over the desk to hold the mirror in front of her. "just look at yourself. Stand up and look," he commanded. Obediently Carole got up and took the mirror from him, peering at her own beautiful image as she moved it around at arm's length. She tried to look unconvinced, unsure of herself.
"I don't think it makes much difference," she said finally. She handed him the mirror and stared timidly at the floor.
Dr. Cameron folded his arms and looked at her thoughtfully. He seemed to sense a conquest. His breathing was audible and his black eyes bulged like lumps of coal, aflame with anticipation. "Your posture needs improvement," he observed. "Hold your head up and put your shoulders back. That's it, look proud. You have every reason to be." He leered at her, keeping his eyes fastened upon the twin bulges of her breasts.
Carole did as he said, drawing herself up into her natural, assertive posture. She smiled at him seductively now.
"Why don't you take off your jacket?" he urged. "You really have a lovely figure, you know." He spoke softly, warmly, but could not conceal the urgency of his demand. Carole was reminded of her father, just then, as she silently did as he said. She tossed the jacket of her suit onto the chair and smoothed her blouse. She held her hands on the gentle swell of her hips, drawing the material tautly downward from the peaks of her fits.
"Oh, Dr. Cameron, you're embarrassing me," she said coyly.
"There's no reason for that," he said. "You're really quite beautiful." He was just about ready to pounce.
"You make me feel so... funny inside," breathed Carole, thrusting her boobs outward still farther. "You're so kind to me, and understanding. I feel like you can show me how to get the most out of life... "
That was all Dr. Cameron needed. He sprang forward and seized her arms. "I'd like to do everything in my power to help you realize your full potential," he told her. His plump, moist lips were only inches from her face.
Carole turned aside her face and drew back, finding herself restrained by his grasp. "Don't," she breathed as he pulled her to him, but his embrace tightened until she could feel the bulge of his cock. against her hip. At that moment .she let herself go limp in his arms, resting her head against his massive chest. "Be gentle with me," she whispered into his ear. Just the right touch, she thought.
"Oh, I will, lovely Carole, I will," he said into her hair. His arms locked around her back, crushing her boobs against his chest. "I believe all forms of human experience should begin under the best possible circumstances. You are about to enter a beautiful, sensual world of discovery, a world you've kept from yourself for too long... "
"Whatever you think is best, Doctor," she whispered.
He began to unbutton the back of her blouse, all the time mashing her body to his, swaying his hips slightly. Carole felt the tip of his cock brushing back and forth across her thighs, and, her objective achieved, surrendered herself to the answering tingle of her own sex. She arched up on tiptoes and captured the clothed spire of his prick in the warm valley of her thighs. Dr. Cameron shuddered as his swelling cock strained ever more tightly against his trousers. Carole began gently to knead the bulging flexing muscles of his back, as he finished with her buttons and slid his hot paws onto her cool, sensitive shoulders and neck.
Carole suddenly became a different person. The flame growing in her crotch united with the fire in her soul, and together they seared through the blanket of shy submissiveness. It was as if she had become an animal in his arms, as something wild and eager and irresistible broke loose within her. She writhed passionately in his embrace, responding to the urgent proddings of his fingers and cock. She reached up and took the lobe of his ear into her mouth, licking and sucking it and bathing it in her hot breath. He recoiled slightly under the fervency of her sudden response, but she would not let him escape her.
"That's it, Carole," he crooned. "Let your hidden "feelings out. Abandon your fears and inhibitions." He was gradually working her blouse down off her shoulders as she, behind his back, was undoing the cuffs. She leaned back in the cradle of his arms and allowed him to pull the garment clear of her arms.
She stood impatiently by while he ran over to lock the door to his office. Quickly he came back to her and seized her from behind. His large, hairy hands cupped her breasts as he stooped and began passionately to kiss her bare neck. Leisurely now, she unhooked the catch of her skirt and allowed it to slide to the floor. She permitted him to feast on her bare flesh as she slowly finished undressing, tossing layer after layer of chaste clothing onto a chair.
At last her slip, bra, garters and all were gone and she stood nude and golden in his feverish grip. His rough hands groped up and down her front, squeezing the tender, juicy mounds of her tits, clawing at her sensitive tummy, and probing down, down into the richly perfumed thatch of her pubis, She wriggled with delight at the sensations his touch stirred in her, twisting and rubbing against him.
Then he released her and she turned to face him. He was breathing quite hard now; his face burned red and his eyes bugged with lust as he quickly dropped his trousers and shorts, allowing his great, livid prick to spring out at her. Roughly, he pulled her to the carpet and flung himself on top of her. His knees forced her thighs apart, and she felt the insistent probings of his cock against her hot, moist cunt as he arched his back and took one of her luscious globes into his mouth.
Dr. Cameron sucked and nibbled at her tender mound as she slid her hands between their bodies to seize his prick. Quickly, in one motion, she fitted the bulging knob of his cock into the entrance of her slimy cave and engulfed it with an easy lunge of her hips. It seared into her, filling her; his pendulous balls flopped against her crotch, and he moaned deep in his chest.
He lifted himself up onto his hands and began to pant as he rammed his huge cannon in and out of her in smooth, rhythmic strokes. Closing her eyes, Carole relaxed and savored the delicious feeling of his cock in her. Then she set to work deftly with her trained cunt muscles. He gasped and moaned between clenched teeth as she milked his Member skillfully, sucking it deep into her and squeezing. it alternately at the head and root.
Carole ignored the delicious sensations from her pussy and concentrated carefully upon directing the flexings of her cunt. As his thrusts became more rapid and more feverish, she slowly relaxed her tight sheath, so he had to work harder and harder to receive the sensations he craved. Opening her eyes, she saw him straining and panting above her. His eyes were tightly closed and tears of exertion streamed down his fat jowls as he intently, urgently fucked her. She wrapped her legs around his bare ass and rode his bucking lunges, not allowing him to complete his vicious thrusts, limiting his sensation just as he sought even more stimulation.
He began to grunt wildly, frustrated by her maddening responses, and redoubled his efforts. Carole 'yeas slammed to the floor on each downward stroke, but she kept herself clamped against him, not allowing him to complete the outward stroke. His great back flexed and heaved as he rammed in and out; his face bulged with exertion as he fought toward climax.
At last, battered by his cruel, demanding fucking, Carole gave in to the repressed yearnings of her cunt. She began to writhe and pump her hips sensually, reveling the waves of sensation that flooded her. She contracted her cunt muscles again, sucking the life out of his surging, frustrated cock. Quickly then, overwhelmed by her response, he came. His great prick throbbed deep inside her; the sticky juice filled her as his balls exploded again and again.
Finally, it was over. He sagged down upon her, his weight crushing the breath out of her heaving, mountainous breast. He lay there on top of her, also gasping for breath, as he slowly regained his senses. Carole lay unmoving, her cunt still ached with the presence of his slowly shrinking prick, unfulfilled and wanting. These feelings she ignored, concentrating instead on the ease of her conquest and the benefits she stood to gain.
If she had him figured right, he would be tough to bargain with. It would take more than a quick roll on the floor to make him see things her way. After all, how many other innocent young girls had fallen afoul of his lecherous overtures and gotten nothing in return but a sore cunt? By delaying his orgasm as she had done, she hoped that his sense of dominance had remained unfulfilled. She had remained cool and in control, and by holding out on him she hoped to entice him with the promise of more, better times ahead. She had to hold his attention at least until she got what she was after.
Dr. Cameron finally rolled off her and got unsteadily to his feet. Silently, he drew up his pants and fastened them. He settled with a sigh into his chair, his face once again composed and calm. Carole lay nude, unmoving, in the middle of the floor. She stretched languidly under his gaze, but made no move to get up.
"Get up, Miss Garth," he commanded, almost coldly. "I have another appointment soon." He avoided her steady, searching stare and began to shuffle papers nervously.
Slowly, Carole did as he said. She pulled on her panties, garter belt, and stockings and then stood up. Crossing over to his desk, she leaned over the top, allowing her pendulous, pear-shaped breasts to sway insolently before his face.
"But we didn't finish our discussion, Doctor," she said sweetly.
His eyes fixed on her large rosy nipples. "Oh yes," he murmured. "Did you have any questions or problems I can help you with?"
Carole seated herself on the edge of his desk, keeping her tits in full view, just inches from his face. "I'd like to change sections for English I," she said. "I think the teacher and I are incompatible."
"Yes, of course," he said, leaning back in his chair. His intent stare remained fixed upon her boobs. Then, with a shake of his head, he looked down to rummage for her schedule among the papers on his desk. He found it and studied it briefly. "Hmm," he began, "Mrs. Hilbert is one of our most experienced and able instructors... "
"I'm sure she is," interjected Carole. "But I think I could do much better work for someone who is younger... more vital. Surely you realize just how important student-teacher rapport is."
He looked up again at this; a smile flitted across his fleshy face. "It is essential," he agreed absently, still taking in the beautiful landscape of her chest. "Perhaps I can do something for you."
She hopped off the desk, causing her swollen breasts to bob excitingly. She strode over toward the chair and resumed dressing, conscious of his eyes upon her. Dr. Cameron watched her speculatively, almost philosophically. Idly, he found a change-of-class form and scribbled upon it.
Carole finished dressing and turned to face him. He held out the slip of paper. "I immensely enjoyed this little conference of ours, Miss Garth. I hope you found it enlightening and profitable, and I hope to see you again soon," he said slowly, still entranced by her presence. She accepted the form with a nod and a brief smile. She returned his gaze easily, confidently.
"I always welcome mutually beneficial discussions," she said dispassionately. "And I will be back." She turned and stepped quickly across the room. She unlocked the door and disappeared without a backward glance.
It was almost dark, with a tinge of winter in the still air, as Carole strolled across the nearly deserted campus. She felt elated, at peace with herself. She had met her first real test, the first entrenched road-block to her career, and she had captured it. She exulted in the feeling of triumph the episode had left her with. She had earned what she got; an important piece of paper in exchange for a quick fuck. He had been strong and sure of himself, but she had been stronger. She had taken him by surprise and overwhelmed him.
When Carole opened the door to her room Marjie was hunched over her" desk, books open, studying by the light of her desk lamp. She turned as Carole entered and her bright eyes got round when she saw Carole's clothes. Carole crossed the room and flopped down. on her bed with a grateful sigh. She looked up sheepishly as Marjie scrutinized her, a low whistle on her lips.
"Have a change of heart?" Marjie asked her. She slid back her chair and propped it on two legs, her hands behind her head.
"Like you said," Carole grinned, "different strokes for different folks."
"That looks more like a disguise than any kind of stroke I ever heard of."
"Yes," Carole admitted, "I was a disguise. But dear old Dr. Cameron saw right through it. Literally," she giggled.
"Who?"
Carole quickly filled her in on the story of her "seduction" by the good Doctor, being sure to emphasize what she had gained by it. Marjie was amused.
"Well, I have to hand it to you. You do seem to know what you're doing," said Marjie. "If you get your kicks that way, I'd be the last person to moralize."
"Oh, I didn't do it for kicks. It was kind of gross, actually." Carole examined her nails.
"Hmm. Well, then, how about getting some kicks this evening?"
"What do you have in mind?"
"The house is sponsoring a barn party with some fraternity," Marjie explained "There'll be all sorts of weird things going on."
"Barn party?"
"Yeah. It's some kind of campus tradition. A farmer fixes up his old barn like a night club, see, and rents it out for parties. Wanna check it out?"
"Sure. Why not?" Carole nodded agreeably. "If you don't try to get me laid again... "
"Only if you want to," Marjie assured her. "You seem to do all right on that score by yourself."
"Okay, then. I'll go."
Sometime later, Carole and Marjie were seated in Marjie's sports car on their way up into the lush green hills which overlooked the small college community. The night was dark and moonless, and the road snaked out before them. The white lines zipped into the Triumph's heads to disappear beneath the sleek hood. Marjie handled the little car skillfully and aggressively, downshifting easily into the sharp curves and nursing the throbbing engine into peak performance. Carole felt a peculiar kind of thrill, almost sexual in nature. Her loins tingled on the comfortable bucket seat and she gripped the arm rest excitedly as Marjie tore into curve after curve with cheerful abandon.
At last Marjie slowed the car and wheeled it into a narrow, tree-lined earthen driveway which wound through a catalpa grove and ended at a large clearing beside a hill. A large dairy barn nestled against the hillside and a dozen or so expensive-looking cars were parked about haphazardly. Bright, multi-colored lights shone from the open doorway, and their ears were assailed by the fierce drumbeat and the grating guitar of a rock band.
It was still fairly early in the evening, and the crowd wasn't very large. A few couples were gyrating to the beat of the band, and others were gathered around tables which surrounded the wooden dance floor. The place was paneled and painted on the inside, and the low ceiling under the hay loft covered about half the floor area. No one was tending the bar; instead there were a couple of iced kegs along with stacks of cups and pitchers. On the opposite side of the room was the stage, from which four long-haired, brightly dressed young men poured forth their music.
Carole and Marjie collected cups of beer from the bar and sat down at an empty table. In no time at all, too unattached, well-dressed males sauntered over and invited themselves to sit down. Carole resolved to be amiable, even though she could read their carnal intent. She allowed Marjie to hold up their end of the conversation, sipping her beer and commenting briefly when talk was directed at her. Otherwise, she looked around calmly, feeling relaxed and comfortable, and watched the place fill up with people.
The two guys turned out to be rather dull. They were both rich, as they took care to point out, but they were neither very attractive nor extremely intelligent. They talked animatedly about sports and kept asking if Carole knew so-and-so from her old high school. Both subjects bored her to death.
A few beers later the place had become rather crowded. Carole excused herself to go hunt for a place to pee. When she returned, Marjie and the two guys had disappeared somewhere. She shrugged and smiled to herself, and got another beer.
She wandered aimlessly among the crowd for a while, occasionally fending off propositions of varying originality. This she did politely, but firmly and categorically. She engaged in brief conversations with a few of the more interesting guys, but generally stayed aloof, observing more than participating. The party was getting progressively more boisterous.
She lost count of the number of beers she had after awhile, and was feeling more than slightly euphoric and quite self-satisfied. It had been an important day for her, and she had come through it successfully. She felt eager for new experiences and ready for anything.
"Well if it isn't Mish Dung Heap of 1974!" Gayleen Winstead's raucous, drunken screech assailed her from the rear. Carole turned calmly to face her. Gayle was seated with a group of expensively dressed, sleek-looking men and women, all of whom were drunk. A large, muscular, cruel-eyed young man who looked like a football player laughed harshly. His bulky arm was around Gayleen, who reclined against his chest, and he was boldly massaging her tit.
"Why, Gayleen, dear," said Carole sweetly, "you're your usual dignified self, I see. Why don't you take off that very expensive sweater so that gorilla can get a good. grip?"
Gayleen's football player stopped laughing and glared at her. Gayleen struggled into a sitting position and smoothed herself prissily.
"You slut!" she seethed at Carole. "You greasily, crab-ridden, foul-mouthed cunt! Why don't you peddle those udders of your somewhere else? I'm sure the old man who owns this place would like to get his hands around them... "
Carole wriggled her breasts invitingly, and noted with satisfaction the three pairs of male eyes which followed the motion intently. "Jealous, dear? That's not very ladylike. It's quite understandable, however, in view of your... ah, deficiencies." Carole's voice was low, insinuating.
Gayleen gurgled apoplectically, and her puffy face turned purple with rage. Her footballer chuckled and reached over to pinch her on the nipple.
"Relax, baby," he growled, "sure, her ties are bigger'n yours, but they're not as pretty."
"Wanna bet, big boy?" Carole put her hands on her hips and displayed herself in profile. As she expected, he could not tear his eyes away. She turned defiantly and walked away.
Carole wandered aimlessly among the tables, rankled by the episode with Gayleen. Where. did that bitch get the idea they were in some sort of competition? Well, if it was competition she wanted, she had come to the right person. Carole began to think of a way to put her in her place once and for all. As far as she was concerned, they weren't even in the same class.
After a time she became saturated with beer and noise and began to wish Marjie would return. It was still early, but she was tired from her long, strenuous day. She elected to search for Marjie outside.
As Carole moved among the parked cars, she was aware of couples necking in some of them. And in some of them there were even more intimate goings-on. Discreetly, so as not to startle someone at a critical moment, she circled the parking lot looking for a blond head and three bare asses. She checked out. all the cars, and was about to look in the hay loft, when she heard familiar voices nearby. The voices, coming from a large, flashy car, belonged to Gayleen and her stupid boyfriend.
"But I don't have a rubber," he was protesting.
"Goddamn it, you're never ready," her whine came distinctly through an open window from the back seat.
"Just a minute, just a minute," he soothed. "I'll borrow one. Don't move now, baby."
"Where the fuck would I go with no fucking clothes on?"
There was the sound of a car door opening as Carole dodged back out of sight between two cars. Soon, the massive figure of Gayleen's boyfriend loomed before her. She was thinking fast and loose. If she could distract him now, make him forget all about Gayleen, it ought to settle the matter once and for all. As he staggered past her she whispered to him: "Hello there, big boy."
He turned, startled. His medium length blond hair was tousled, and his wrinkled shirt-tail over-flowed his hastily fastened belt. He wavered unsteadily on his feet, unsure of where the voice was coming from.
"Over here," she crooned. "Come and take a look. I really do have much nicer tits than she does." Quickly she unbuttoned the simple blouse she wore, exposing her warm, pale bosom.
His eyes got very wide when he saw her, and he hesitated only for an instant before stumbling forward into the narrow space. He almost ran into her, but stopped inches away, swaying drunkenly. His head was bent over, eyes fixed upon her bare chest, as he squinted for a better view.
"Here, feel," she told him, guiding his hand inside her blouse and clutching it to her breast. "There now, isn't that nice?" He nodded dumbly, a moronic grin on his face, and began to knead her yielding mound vigorously. "Why don't you take that out?" she suggested, pointing to the tenting spire of his prick. "You won't even need a rubber. I'm on the pill ... ." With an animal grunt, he seized her, slamming her body against a nearby car as if she were a doll. The impact knocked the breath out of her, and before she could recover, his foul-smelling mouth covered hers and his tongue thrust deep into her throat. She struggled to get free, but he held her imprisoned, trapped between his trunklike thighs. He interpreted her struggles as the writhings of passion and increased his own fervor. Reaching down, he freed his cock from its cloth prison and rammed it insolently into her bare tummy.
At last she managed to claw his head back far enough to gulp a mouthful of air, but it was only for an instant. He overpowered her easily once more and sucked greedily at her mouth. His hands were mauling her tender, overripe breasts painfully as his. prick gouged her. Desperately she brought her knee up firmly into his spread crotch.
He was too drunk to feel any real pain, but he stepped back, surprised. "Why you bitch!" he growled. He grabbed her roughly and flung her to the ground. "I'll teach you to kick me in the balls." Immediately he was on top of her, crushing her,. smothering her, as she gasped weakly for breath. It was, difficult, however; he held her shoulders down with his hands, resting the full weight of his body on her swollen boobs, and sunk his teeth viciously into her exposed neck.
Carole tried to scream, but it was weak and ineffectual. She didn't have the breath for it. He slid downward, still restraining her arms, and began to chew cruelly on her tender, inflamed tits. She struggled impotently, gathering breath for another scream. He saw the fear and pain on her face and rose up, grinning. His foul, beer-laden breath hissed at her: "Shut up, you slut, or I'll break your jaw."
Quickly he tore open the front of her jeans and wrestled them down over her struggling hips. She could feel the great, bulbous head of his cock probing her as he held her legs apart with his knees. She opened her mouth to give a good, loud scream when he hit her.
The blow was a glancing one; the alcohol had affected his aim, but its effect on Carole's head was eminently efficient. Her senses departed momentarily and great black and white and grey spots swirled before her shocked, dilated eyes. In that instant she. was dimly aware of his prick sliding unresisted into her dry cunt. There were the distant sounds of a car door slamming and rapid, indiscernible voices. She drifted in interminable greyness, feeling only the stinging friction of his ramrod in her, totally at his mercy.
When she came to her senses, Marjie's concerned face was inches from hers. Marjie had pulled up her pants and was now, carefully, buttoning her blouse. In the background' Carole caught a glimpse of Gayleen pounding her fists angrily against the chest of her simian boyfriend. She was yelling hysterically, incoherently, and he was muttering some excuse and growling like the animal he was.
"Are you all right?" Marjie asked softly, seeing her awareness.
"God, I don't know," Carole muttered absently, still stunned. She felt no pain, however, and when she gingerly fingered her jaw she could locate no fracture. Shakily, leaning on Marjie for support, she got to her feet and allowed Marjie to lead her to the car.
"I'll get you for this, you bitch!" Gayleen was screaming after her, "I'll get you if it's the last think I do! I swear it!" She sagged, sobbing, in her boyfriend's arms, silenced by the wrath that emanated undiminished toward Carole's back from her wild, bloodshot eyes.
CHAPTER FOUR
The business of going to college quickly settled down into a dull routine. Carole found that, despite Marjie's apparent lack of ambition, she was very compatible as a roommate. Each of them complemented the other's personality. Carole was the brooding, intense gold-digger; Marjie was the happy-go-lucky, always eager nymphet.
Marjie had teased her good-naturedly about "biting off more than she could chew" in her ill-conceived seduction of Gayleen's apish boyfriend. Once her flesh and her pride had 'healed, Carole came to look upon the episode philosophically. She had been foolishly impulsive, allowing herself to be motivated solely by her disgust for Gayleen and she had taken the consequences. It was just the sort of cheap stunt that Gayleen herself might pull. It had and the euphoric, indomitable mood she was in. She had quite forgotten Gayleen's wrathful threats. Indeed, she found it easy to forget that Gayleen ever existed.
Carole easily accepted the day-to-day results of her chosen course, fitting a sensual, sex-kittenish exterior over her cool, calculating, no-nonsense outlook. The fit was perfect; with her statuesque build it was natural and unavoidable. Meanwhile the word had gotten around the house that she was serious and determined, and was not to be trifled with. She grimly and resolutely steeled herself for the distasteful task of methodically blowing the minds and balls of all who stood in her way. As for class work, she got by with a minimum of effort. She was capable of doing the work, and knew it, but she also knew several much easier ways.
Near the end of the third week of classes, Carole was scheduled for a private conference with Dr. Forster, the band director. It was a personal inter-view given to all drum major hopefuls, just the kind of one-to-one confrontation she needed to work her sly sexual magic.
She found out all she could about the man before-hand. He was well-known and well-liked around campus; a thin, sixty-ish man with vanishing grey hair. People described him as a capable teacher and musician, worldly and affable. She also learned that Dr. Forster was a widower of some fourteen years, making him ideal prey for a bouncy, eager young seductress.
Carole dressed in a casual but ladylike manner, in sleeveless top with bra and a knee-length skirt. The neckline was low, just giving the hint of fleshy cleavage, but not too bold. She had decided to play it fairly straight with him after observing him at rehearsals. Something told her that he would see right through the kind of act she had put on for Dr. Cameron. She also armed herself with a letter of introduction from her high school band leader.
It was late on a Friday afternoon when she made her scheduled appearance at his plush office in the new Fine Arts building. She was nonchalant, relaxed, and confident when the old gentleman let her in and directed her amiably to a small leather couch in his suite. He pulled up a chair for himself, sitting opposite her across a coffee table. His office was tastefully decorated: thick shag carpet, walnut furniture, the inevitable bookcase, and a trophy case full of the memoirs of his years with the University. Dr. Forster himself was nattily dressed in a well-cut sports outfit and colorful tie. He was a cheerful, vigorous man who radiated sympathy and comradely warmth.
Carole relaxed, arranging herself on the love-seat, and looked at Dr. Forster expectantly. She kept her skirt pulled tightly across her thighs, hands in her lap. He gave her a companionable smile and began the interview.
"Now, then, Carole. You were a majorette in high school, is that right?"
"Yes, sir. Mr. Boles was the band director there," she began. "He said that he knew you and that he thought I could satisfy your requirements. He gave me this." She handed him the sealed letter from her old instructor.
"Oh yes, Don Boles is an old friend," said Dr. Forster. He accepted the letter and scanned the typed sheet. "You do seem to be qualified," he said at length. "Of course, competition for this position is especially keen, and you will have to audition with the other candidates."
"I understand, Doctor," breathed Carole, leaning forward. The neckline of her loose top sagged, giving him an enticing view of the luscious valley between her confined breasts. He watched her maneuver placidly; his intent, bright eyes showed no hint of lust.
"According to the questionnaire you filled out earlier, you are undecided what your major is going to be. Naturally, it is departmental policy to reserve these positions for music majors," he went on. "I think you can understand the rationale behind this. Of course, if you are exceptionally qualified and show talent and desire, there's no rule which explicitly excludes you. It's not unheard of to have majorettes who are not music majors."
"I haven't decided on a major," Carole said, "because I want to get a feel for the alternatives open to me. I have a strong interest in music, of course, especially musical theatre. But it seems to me that career opportunities in the field are somewhat limited."
He smiled. "Well, it's true that there are more lucrative fields of endeavor. But there are also many intangibles to be considered. No one has yet come up with a quantative evaluation of music as it affects the mind. For instance... "
He was starting to ramble now, and Carole decided to cut him off. "You must get immense satisfaction from working with young people," she suggested.
He stopped, composed himself, and looked her directly in the eyes. "Yes I do," he affirmed. "Particularly when they are as attractive as you."
"Why, Doctor," chuckled Carole, "that sounded like a pass."
He also laughed. "At my age," he said, "I'm surprised anyone would think me capable." His face became suddenly serious, and his eyes went out of focus as if he were looking at some far away, familiar landscape. "Anyway," he shrugged, "I'm sure no one would take me seriously."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Carole said warmly. "I'm sure there are plenty of women who would be delighted to get to know you." There was a moment of heavy silence. Carole liked this charming little man. She resolved to do what she had to do as painlessly as possible. "Like me, for instance," she added softly.
His clear gaze fixed upon her. "I'm just a lonely, dull old man," he intoned. "Surely you must have your pick of the boys. What can someone like you see in me?" His voice was wistful and sad, with just a note of resignation. Carole thought, however, that she detected a hint of desire in his tanned, lined face.
She got up and walked slowly around the coffee table, swaying her hips sensually. Stopping beside his chair, she took his hand gently. "Let me show you I'm serious .when I say you're attractive," she whispered. "You want me," she told him. "I've seen that look everywhere" I've been since I started to grow up. You are gentle and compassionate, and those traits are hard to come by in younger men."
He wore a tormented, pleading look. "Please," he croaked plaintively, "don't tempt me so. I don't think my heart can stand it." He attempted a dry laugh.
"I'm not trying to tease you, Doctor," she soothed. "Come, lie down on the couch. Let me ,please you... " Beckoning, she tugged him to his feet and led him unresisting to the love-seat. His mouth was set in a tight line and his eyes were glazed, their alertness gone before the torment that washed over him. But, he allowed himself to be sat down. With a shudder he lay back, silent and fearful.
Carole coiled herself sinuously on the floor before him and began, gingerly, to unfasten the waistband and fly of his pants. She took his pale, limp prick in her hand and began slowly to massage it. He closed his eyes resignedly, and Carole detected a flicker of moisture at their age-creased corners.
She handled his small, ancient member for a time, rubbing the slack, wrinkled skin until at last she felt the blood quickening inside it. Carefully she took it between her full, moist lips. He trembled at the sensation, as forgotten feelings stirred deep in his loins. His cock rose and thickened by slow degrees until it filled her hot, greedy mouth. When it was fully erect Dr. Forster's breathing was labored; a streak of fallen tear still glistened upon his flushing cheek.
Carole rose quickly and stripped. Then, easing., herself into a kneeling position over his bony form, she lowered herself over the upraised spire of his cock and engulfed it in the deep, moist recesses of her hot young cunt. He opened his eyes then and looked at her wonderingly, speechlessly. His narrow pelvis began to undulate and squirm in that age-old, timeless motion.
"So good! So good!" he wheezed. She grinned down at him and began to rock back and forth slowly. Her supple, pneumatic young body fucked him deeply and sensually. "It's been so long... " he panted. A beatific smile spread over his weathered face as, at last, he surrendered to the pure joy of being fucked by a beautiful, eager young girl.
Carole braced her hands against the back of the couch and lowered her large, fleshy breasts over his face. Happily, dreamily, he began to lick and suck at her elongated nipples as she continued her slow, luxurious fucking. She felt her well-trained cunt muscles contracting and relaxing rhythmically and naturally, and made no effort to control her responses. She knew that he was already quite overwhelmed by her "kindness," and allowed herself to savor the rich, bloating feel of him inside her. She closed her eyes and wriggled her shoulders, enjoying the delightful tingles his skillful tongue was inducing in her swelling tits.
Slowly, carefully, she milked his prick. It became harder still and continued to expand, completely filling her. She rocked her hips three ways at once, fondling every surface of his cock with her silky cunt. He continued pumping his own hips slowly, contentedly, savoring every sensation. He nibbled lovingly at the taut, erect stems of her nipples, and she responded by pressing her breasts together with her hands and offering them to his lips. His hands came up and began gently to massage her hips, working downward from her narrow waist, across the curve of her buttocks, and into the warm, sensitive crevice of her ass. There they lingered, reaming around and around the nerve-rich pucker of her anus.. His bony, delicate fingers made the delightful trip up and down her crack again and again. He's in no hurry, thought Carole dreamily, not like the demanding, callous men she had fucked before. He seemed content, as she was, to merely sip at the gilt cup of sex, getting the most out of a rare opportunity. His hands snaked around her soft, sensitive flanks and began to stroke the underside of belly. Skillfully and lovingly he tantalized the silky hairs of her pubis and poked teasingly into the convoluted folds of her navel.
Carole moaned as his thumbs flicked the tiny bud of her clit. She squirmed with delight at the intense, penetrating streaks of pleasure that shot upward from that super-sensitive membrane. Her whole body seemed suddenly on fire with lust, fanned by the storm of sensation from her clit and her cunt. She began, deliriously, to fuck the whole length of his fully erect prick. She stretched herself high above him, so that just the tip penetrated the wet funnel of her cunt, and then slid down slowly until its hard length was completely buried in her and her, throbbing, inflamed labia nestled in the soft nest of his pubis. Gradually, unconsciously, she quickened the rhythm of her fucking, and he kept pace with her. Her awareness was slowly being consumed by the fire in her crotch, and she began to long for blessed, violent release. Firmly, resolutely, he rammed his surprisingly virile cannon into her, all the while strumming her clit and sucking madly at the proffered red tips of her smooth, sensational tits. As he fucked ever faster, Carole began to moan and thrash about, abandoning her careful rhythm as her ego deserted her, chased out of her by the all-consuming passions of her loins. She squeezed his rod tightly in her well-lubricated cunt and flicked it wildly as he continued to drive it into her, seeking to impale her on its burning shaft. He, too, was losing control, as the pent-up desires of long years contorted his face and wracked his thin body.
Carole's ears roared as her heart-rate doubled in just a few seconds. Dimly she was aware of imminent orgasm, and sought grimly to cling to the edge of release. She refused to let herself go until the throbbing of his prick told her that he, too, had reached the heights of fulfillment.
The pair of them became a wild, thrashing, mindless mass of hot flesh. He grunted rapidly, ramming his bursting cock into ever faster until, finally, his hands gripped her surging hips convulsively and the hot, spurting jet of his come blasted against her cervix. At the same moment, Carole felt herself slipping off the pinnacle of arousal into bottomless, spasmodic, careening release. The searing eruption of his orgasm triggered answering contractions in her cunt, which went on and on, milking the last drops of his come from his throbbing cock.
At last it was over. Carole collapsed gratefully on top of Dr. Forster's limp form. Her hot forehead nestled in the hollow of his neck and her tingling breasts flattened against his bony chest. His cock remained buried in her satiated, come-filled cunt and gradually subsided into its flaccid former state. How long would it be, she wondered dimly, before It would once again rise to such heights? And how long had it been, before today? She suddenly felt overcome with a great sadness, a sense of pity for this lonely, feeble old man who had just had a fleeting glimpse of his departing vigor. She felt remorse, too, for what she had done was just a drop of water for a parched man. He had been right, she thought glumly, she had been teasing him. Sure, she would get what she was after, but what he had received was now over forever, just another wistful memory for a man who owned precious little else.
Her eyes were moist with compassion when, at length, she pried herself from him. To her surprise, Dr. Forster wore a look of deep contentment. He smiled beatifically, his warm dark eyes staring off into space. He just lay there motionlessly, dwelling upon his own thoughts. Silent and confused, Carole slowly dressed; her mind was awash with conflicting emotions. Yet he seemed totally at peace. She found her pity vanishing, to be replaced with a sense of awe. At last she realized that indeed she had given him a precious gift.
After a time he seemed to remember that she was in the room. His eyes focused on her once more as he slowly drew up his trousers and fastened them. Smiling warmly, he sat up and watched her silently for a few moments.
"I guess you did it for the drum major's job," he observed finally.
Carole dropped her eyes contritely. An authentic sob constricted her throat, and she had to blink back sudden tears. Meekly, she nodded.
"You are sorry, too. Why?" he asked soberly. "Could it be that you're ashamed of taking advantage of an old man?"
Again Carole nodded, saying nothing. There was a pause as Dr. Forster studied her curiously for a few moments.
"Well, the job's yours," he said with finality. She looked up, perplexed.
"You earned it,". he explained, seeing her confused look.
"But... "
"No, really. If you knew how much I've missed that in the last fourteen years, maybe you could understand how grateful I am now," he said earnestly. "Sex is, after all, what life is all about. Go now," he told her, "with my undying gratitude."
For the first time since school had started, Carole felt pangs of doubt. Dr. Forster had known all along what she was up to, and he had willingly played along. He had done so because, for him, it was a fair deal. She was the kind of girl that comes along once in a lifetime for someone like him, and he had been only too happy to accept her terms. Before now, Carole had felt no guilt about doing what she had to do, but Dr. Forster was different. He deserved better than she had given him; he deserved someone to love and care for him permanently. And she suddenly realized, with an awful feeling of emptiness, that she was incapable of that kind of devotion. It was as if she had made one of her deals before she was born, trading her humanity for a spectacular body. She yearned for the capacity to give and receive love. Dr. Forster had it; Marjie had it. Why didn't she It was another lovely fall evening. Darkness had almost come, and the campus lights blazed along deserted sidewalks. It was just past the dinner hour, and things were quiet, winding up for a raucous Friday night's activities. In her troubled and confused state, she suddenly found herself in front of the Gilded Lily Cafe.
The bar, also, was nearly empty. The rickety door stood open, extending its tongue of light towards her, and the permanent odor of beer and sweat wafted out. Inside it was quiet. She could see a couple of guys playing pool, and one or two others sitting at the bar. Here, too, it was the lull before the Friday night storm. It suddenly looked warm and friendly in there, just the place to collect her ragged thoughts.
She walked in, avoiding the glances that automatically came her way, and ordered up a beer from the taciturn bartender. Taking the glass, Carole flopped.. gratefully into a corner booth and .tried to relax. Her body settled comfortably onto the upholstered bench, but her mind refused to settle down. Irritably, she scanned the place, seeking something on which to fix her wandering attention. She sipped idly at the beer as she automatically evaluated the other early patrons. There was a couple talking animatedly in another booth and a pair of single males sitting at the bar. Beside the pool players and the bartender, that was all. The couple she ignored; they obviously had their own problems. One of the guys at the bar was a typical nondescript freak, sitting bleary-eyed and morose as he silently pulled on a glass of brew.
A twinge of indefinite recognition touched her as her eyes fell upon the other man. He faced away from her, and all she could see was his stocky build and a large crop of curly dark hair. He was bent over the bar, engaged in some activity she could not observe. As she watched him, she realized he was writing, and she suddenly flashed back to first time she had been in the Gilded Lily. She had seen him that night, also, and he had followed her.
She felt an impulse to go to him, and wondered at it. Still confused by her feelings of inadequacy, she fought the impulse and continued watching. After a time he stopped writing and stretched. He ordered another draw and turned around to lean his back against the bar.
He saw her at once, fixing his dark eyes upon her face. She was reminded again of that evening at the first of the year, and how she had been disturbed by the intense glow in those eyes. Unconsciously she smiled, meeting his gave evenly.
He grinned back at her, recognizing her instantly. A second later he was off his stool, heading in her direction.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked.
She shrugged, still smiling at him, and motioned him to the seat opposite. They sat looking at each other for a moment; neither of them could think of anything to say. He spread his hands on the table.
"Um, well... can I buy you another beer?" he asked finally.
"If that's what you came over here for."
Tim Hamilton said nothing, but picked up her empty glass and waved it at the bartender, who shuffled over with a fresh one. Tim paid him and watched him walk away.
"There's something bothering you," he said at length.
Carole sighed. "I didn't know it showed."
"It doesn't, really. Just a lucky guess. Do you want to tell me about it?" He looked her in the eyes again. There was concern on his face.
Carole had to look away. Was it really so easy to show compassion? Why could she not do the same? "I don't know if you can understand," she said.
"Try me," he said. "I'm nothing if I'm not understanding."
"Then tell me. How do you do it?"
"What?"
"Be understanding."
Tim looked at her inquisitively. Then he laughed, a rich, deep-throated laugh. "What's the matter, don't rich beautiful girls have friends?"
Carole dropped her eyes and pressed her lips together. What had made her think that he was different from all the others?
"Look," he said. "I don't mean to put you down. Everybody feels lonely and misunderstood sometimes. The only way to get over it is to talk about it with another person. So why don't you tell me about it?"
"Well. Somebody that looks like me ... ." she began hesitantly. Does he really care, she wondered, and then: he's already shown that he cares more about people than I ever did. "I'm the kind of person that uses people, and people use me. I guess beautiful people are kind of like that."
"But," he said, "they want others to care. You want me to care."
"How do you know what I'm thinking all the time?"
"Practice. People are my business; I'm a writer, you know."
The bar was beginning to fill up. Someone put a coin in the juke box and they were suddenly engulfed in sound.
He leaned over and yelled in her ear. "Let's go somewhere where we can talk. Come on." He grabbed her arm and pulled her from the booth.
"Where are we going?"
"My place." He continued pulling her toward the door.
"Wait a minute," she said uncertainly, holding back. "I thought you wanted to talk."
He stopped short and, grinned at her. "Sure, what else would a man and woman do together?" Then he became serious. "Look, I've never tried to get anyone to do anything they really didn't want to do. So are you coming or not?"
She still hesitated. As she stood there making up her mind, a group of guys came in and brushed past her: 'One of them pinched her on the ass. She lurched forward, directly into Tim's arms.
Tim stepped around her and planted' his boot right in the guy's rear end.
"Hey!" The fellow turned with clenched fists, but when he saw Tim's size and the hard look in his eyes, he displayed his palms and backed away apologetically.
Tim turned back to Carole, anger still in his face. "Well, what about it?"
"Anyplace is better than this," Carole said. She smiled at him and took his arm. "Come on, let's go."
Once outside, Tim calmed down again. He slid his arm around her slender waist and guided her back in the direction she had come. It wasn't a grab but a friendly, companionable caress. They exchanged smiles in the darkness, and walked on in silence.
Tim's place turned out to be a small, single-room apartment on the third floor of a huge old rooming house. Furnishings consisted of an unmade bed, an over-filled bookcase, and a desk piled high with more books and papers which overflowed onto the surrounding floor. A sheet of paper was stuck in a battered old typewriter, where a few uneven lines . were written.
Carole stood at the desk reading the page while Tim closed the door and walked up beside her.
"What do you mean by this," she wanted to know, "'Half-human masses writhe. Struggling to become one'...?"
He was silent for a moment, as if considering whether to tell her. She turned to look at him and discovered a strange, almost melancholy look on his face. He stood, swaying slightly on his feet, his chest only inches from the bold, thrusting tips of her breasts. When he spoke his voice was subdued, halting.
"Remember the first time I saw you? We talked about how everyone in the Gilded Lily was trying to have a good time and not knowing how. And tonight, we were both sitting there feeling lonely and unhappy, and we talked to each other. Now we're together, and we're both happier than we were. We were struggling, like the rest of them, and now here we are." He smiled again, shyly, uncertainly. His breath came in quick, uneven gulps.
"I remember," she said softly, returning his smile. She felt as if her whole body was suddenly magnetized, being drawn irresistibly toward him. Their eyes met and exchanged unspoken consent, and then she found herself in his arms.
As they shared a long, moist, probing kiss, Carole felt herself responding to him in a new way. They shared more than a simple physical sensation, it was an expression of the closeness they felt in their hearts. She felt him tremble in her embrace as he clutched at her back and waist. Her plump breasts pressed against him as he squeezed her, and his swelling cock stretched against his pants to poke her tingling thighs.
Urgently, eagerly, she slid her hands between their bodies and unfastened his trousers. They slipped to the floor about his ankles, exposing his hard red prick in all its demanding glory. Then she lowered her own skirt and guided the barrel of his hot cannon into the warm valley of her, yearning crotch.
They stood that way a long moment, kissing and clutching at each other with their clothes wrapped unheeded about their ankles. Tim began to pump his hips in and out, stroking the knob of his cock across the moist entrance to her sex-cave. At last their kiss ended, and he cradled her head gently in his large hands, entwining them in her soft hair.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked softly.
"I couldn't help myself," she said. "Does it matter?" She pulled off her blouse and unhooked her bra, revealing her ripe, succulent breasts. The nipples glowed a rosy red in the dim light; their tips were hard and distended, rubbing slightly against his chest. At once he seized one of her nipples, tweaking and rolling it between his fingers.
"No," he breathed, "I suppose it doesn't."
She closed her eyes and sighed deeply as he gently toyed with her tingling tit. She gripped his rod tightly between her wet thighs, seeking to draw it into herself as he continued to pump. Lolling her head backward and arching her back, she thrust her upturned breasts at his face, meanwhile keeping his cock imprisoned between her legs.
Carole emitted a squeal of delight as he lowered his head to take one of her rosy nipples into his greedy mouth. He clutched her breasts together with his powerful hands, squeezing and kneading them.
"Oh yes! Oh yes!" she squealed. "My tits are on fire... " Carole wriggled and squirmed in his grasp. The sensations from her hot, swelling boobs sent wild shivers of lust through her.
"Beautiful, baby," he mumbled around a mouthful of her flesh. "Soft... delicious... beautiful tits... "
Tim had kicked off his shoes and freed his stockinged feet from his trousers. When he had stimulated her breasts to a blushing, tingling, marvelous glow, he reached behind her and grabbed a double handful of her soft ass. Mashing her against him with his cock trapped deep between her thighs, he lifted her and half-carried, half-dragged her across the tiny room to his bed. She tumbled onto the mattress with a low moan, lifting and spreading her knees. Quickly he whipped off the rest of his clothes and, kneeling, thrust her legs still farther apart. His rough hands came up to frame the furry mound of her cunt.
He began fervently kissing the insides of her thighs, working his way up and down their length with his wet tongue. Carole continued to moan and squirm, and grasped her swollen breasts, flattening them against her heaving ribcage. She squealed again as, at last, he left her thighs and took her stiff, erect clitoris into his, mouth. She could feel the coarse hairs of his beard brushing her cunt-lips as he nibbled and sucked gently on her joy-button. His chin, lips, and tongue worked vigorously, sending spasms of delight through her inflamed body.
He ate her cunt as if it was his last meal, sucking and licking fervently at her labia and her clit. The electric twinges of her clit became so intense at one point that she had to wriggle away from him and gasp for breath. Still he persisted. Every touch of his mouth sent unbelievable streaks of ecstasy through her, and she cried out in pleasure and exquisite pain as he laved her clit and nibbled teasingly at her slavering pussy-lips.
Just as Tim's skillful oral ministrations reached fever-pitch, he stopped, clamored up, and flopped onto the bed beside her. Carole emitted a long, shuddering sigh and stretched her pleasure-wracked body luxuriously.
"Why did you stop?" she wanted to know, opening her eyes to look at him. "I was almost ready to come."
He grinned at her; his moustache and beard were matted with the fragrant juice of her aroused cunt. "There's no hurry," he said' soothingly, and began to massage her huge, quivering breasts. His stiff, engorged prick rested across her naked thigh.
"There may be no hurry for you," she panted, "but I can come as often as I want. And I want to come... "
"There, there," he said, still grinning. "We've got all night. You'll be coming and going all you want. I just want to rest my tongue for a while. It seems to be out of condition."
"Okay, have it your way," Carole giggled. She was still too excited to be really disappointed. "I'll amuse you for a while," she said, and grabbed his cock. His eyebrows shot up as she gave it a few sharp, playful tugs.
"Just lay back and enjoy," she ordered him, raising herself up on one elbow.
Tim rolled onto his back and shut his eyes. He exhaled loudly as she set to work giving him a vigorous hand-job. She grasped his rod securely with both hands and rapidly pumped her fists up and down, sliding the blue-veined skin over the hard shaft. At the same time, slowly and teasingly, she applied the tip of her tongue to its great purple head. She licked around and around the flange of velvety flesh and across the salty slit at the end. His manhood grew still more in her grasp, and he began to grunt with each stroke of her hand.
Carole slid off the bed and kneeled on the floor between his legs. Leaning forward, she engulfed the hard, hot shaft of cock in the fleshy pocket between her luscious breasts and pressed her mounds together with her hands. Tim began to twist and bounce his hips up and down, and he moaned passionately.
"Oooh... that's great!" he gasped, grinding his balls against her chest as he slid his prick up and down in the soft cleavage of her heavy, swollen boobs.
Carole tilted her held far down and lowered her mouth over the head of his cock and sucked deeply on it. Tim cried out in ecstasy as the throbbing tip nestled in the back of her throat. Her tongue laved around and around its great bulk, and her teeth nipped playfully at the loose skin. His legs went around her back and clutched powerfully, pressing her tightly against his crotch.
Soon her empty, aching cunt began to yearn to have his powerful ramrod inside it. Still she sucked and tongued him as he writhed beneath her; her nipples poked into the soft, curly hairs of his crotch. Savoring the taste and feel of him in her mouth, she moved her hand to her own crotch and began to stroke her clit rapidly. She was all but overcome by sheer animal wanting; her whole body was alive with shooting streaks of pleasure as she fucked him with her tits and her mouth. The juices of her cunt surged downward to inundate her probing fingers and slicken her smooth, flexing thighs.
With blind lust, she climbed up onto the bed and straddled hi. wriggling body. With a cry of pure joy, she lowered herself onto his shaft. Her frustrated muscles grippe I at the hard rod as it slid into her, driving the locus of her lust deep into her.
They began to move together, urgently, feverishly. Carole kept her body upright, bracing herself against his hairy chest, as she bounced up and down. His movements mirrored hers; his narrow hips pumped in that classic, primeval motion.
It was glorious, exquisite. Carole panted and moaned mindlessly as she heaved up and down. Her plump, rosy-tipped, distended breasts bounced wildly, adding to the ever-increasing banquet of pleasure that shot upward from her gripping, demanding, hungry cunt. She felt herself joyously ascending the peak of sensation toward orgasm.
"I'm... going ... . to... come!" she yelled, her eyes wide and round.
"Come, baby, come!" he urged from beneath her.
Orgasm exploded through her. Her seething body thrashed and vibrated wildly as her pussy spasmed and squeezed his cock. It seemed to last forever; she screamed as pleasure overpowered her with wave after burning wave of rapture.
Finally, exhausted, she lifted herself off him and collapsed onto the bed by his side. His huge, glistening cock still stood hard and proud, a monument to his unsatisfied lust. Carole lay in a heap, resting upon her bosom and her knees; her trim, pale butt was high in the air. Her body was suffused with a dreamlike warmth as she lay, half-unconscious, submerged in the beatific afterglow of sex.
Tim's face gradually lost its grimace of pleasure and his unfired cannon slowly, throbbingly, subsided. He turned his head and looked compassionately at her peaceful, reposing face. She opened her eyes and found his gaze upon her and smiled at him.
"You didn't come," she said with a note of concern. She had been so overcome with sensuality that the fact hadn't registered until that moment.
"No," he said, returning her smile. "It was beautiful, though:" His tone and his expression told her that he spoke truthfully, and she nodded silently.
"It doesn't matter, anyway," he went on. "The evening is young."
"What makes you think I want to stay?" she asked teasingly.
His eyebrows lifted slightly as he stared at her. His pupils regained just a touch of hard aloofness.
"Do whatever you want," he said evenly. "You did seem to be enjoying yourself, though, and there's plenty more where that came from." With a glance he indicated his still-erect cock, which gleamed redly in the soft light. It was still dripping with her love juice. "Like I said before, I never forced anybody," he added.
Carole moved her shoulders in a sleepy, half-hearted shrug. He was right, she told herself, it had been enjoyable. And he still made no demands upon her. She at least owed him the chance to get his rocks off.
"Oh well," she said. "I didn't have anything else to do, and I am having a good time. I'm all yours."
"You won't regret it," he said.
At once he slid off the bed and kneeled again at its side. Only this time it was her upraised ass which confronted him.
He slid his large hands slowly upward over the backsides of her thighs to cup and spread her trim, rounded buttocks. Quivering with anticipation, he lowered his shaggy head and slid his warm tongue into the crack of her ass.
Carole's facial expression relaxed again into one of. peaceful contentment, and she wriggled sensually, snuggling her cheeks and breasts against the cool sheet. Tim's slithery, insolent tongue probed her receptive backside authoritatively, tickling and expanding her crinkly asshole. He spread his saliva generously over her crack with the tip of his tongue, applying it the way a master painter might put the finishing touches on his masterpiece. Occasionally his darting tongue dipped into the sweet, slimy recesses of her satiated cunt to rekindle the fires of want therein. His hands gripped the nether surfaces of her spread thighs and his thumbs pressed back the fleshy mounds of her buttocks, exposing the slippery highway of delight which connected her cunt and her asshole.
Carole moaned with pleasure as he jabbed the stiffened tip of his tongue into her anus, pushing his saliva into her as the sphincter muscles slowly relaxed. The insistent tickling of his oral massage electrified the overworked nerve centers in and around her crotch. Involuntary muscle spasms relaxed and expanded her asshole.
After several minutes of diligent work within the canyon of her butt, Tim crawled up on the bed behind her and skimmed the tip of his tongue up the length of her spine and neck and into her upturned ear. His broad, hairy chest met the curve of her back in perfect juncture; his muscular thighs nestled against the undersides of hers, and his inflamed cock intruded upon the dewy garden of her pubis.
She reached down between her legs and grasped the rock-hard shaft with both hands, causing him to utter a small groan. He was breathing heavily now into her moistened, ear as he gently tugged and nibbled at her earlobe.
Then he rose up on his knees again and back-tracked the path of his tongue along the gentle crease of her spine and into the pale crack of her butt. He repeated this again and again until her whole body was suffused with the warm, sensuous 'glow of heightened excitement. His hips pushed the shaft of his penis through the circle of her hands as he continued the broad strokes of his tongue across her back and rear.
Carole continued to crouch motionlessly on the bed as Tim lovingly explored every inch of her trim behind. A childlike smile was on her face. She relished this act of submission, so uncommon for her.
Tim began to work the tip of his moistened index finger into her tight pink asshole, expanding and relaxing it even more. Carole responded at once by rotating her hips ever so gently against his insistent pressure until, with a sudden spasm of her sphincter, she drew his finger deep into her. Her long lashes fluttered with ecstasy as the sudden sensation shot through her belly and settled in the bursting heaviness of her breasts.
Tim now slid his thumb into her cunt, so that she was impaled by his fingers in the twin doorways to her desire. She was now writhing and moaning with rekindled lust. Her outspread arms hugged the mattress as she lunged and squirmed in his delightful grip.
Still Carole exulted in her submissiveness. It was a. special kind of thrill, she realized, to surrender oneself totally to the pleasure of another. And if the he was sexy and skillful, as well as kind and considerate, then the thrill was nearly boundless. She longed for the fulfillment that would come when he possessed her totally.
"Oh, Tim!" she breathed, barely conscious of her own words. "Oh, take me, use me, fuck me! Yes. Please fuck me!"
"Sure baby," whispered Tim. "Where do you want it?"
"In the ass," she moaned. "Fuck me in the ass. Fuck me hard and long, until my butt smokes and shit flies out my ears!"
Tim pulled his finger out of her ass with an almost audible "pop."
"Coming up," he said.
He gripped the cheeks of her buttocks firmly with both hands and spread them gently apart. Rearing up on his knees, he fitted the tip of his purple poker against the pucker of her asshole and pushed. Carole relaxed and pushed back, rotating her hips as the bulbous head of his cock, many times larger than his finger, entered her tender canal.
With a gasp and a shudder from Carole, Tim's prick slid all the way into her. He gripped her flanks spasmodically as sensation flooded him. Then, with deliberation and gentleness, he began to fuck her. Slowly, rhythmically, he worked, drawing his dick out sharply and slowly working it in again.
With each stroke Carole gave a little yelp. She could no longer tell if they were born of pleasure or of pain. Although her asshole was not designed for this, the human body is a marvelously adaptable organism.
"Am I hurting you, darling?"
"Yes. No," Carole murmured. "It's indescribable."
"It's so tight," he grunted, keeping the rhythm. "So good... "
He began to shorten and quicken his thrusts into her ravishing ass, keeping time with his racing heart. Using only the super-sensitive glans of his penis, he probed and prodded steadily as he soared toward the heights of stimulation.
Carole meanwhile had risen up on all fours with her back arched and her head thrown back. Her boobs bobbled beneath her as she quivered and squirmed on the searing spear of his lust. Breath hissed from her gaping mouth. Only the tip of his manhood was inside her, but it felt like her bowels were completely filled by it. The tension was unbearable, and Carole longed for the quenching flush of orgasm.
Just when she felt she could take his burning rod no longer, the fire in her butt grew still hotter as his come began to ooze into her. Then her abdomen filled with his scalding love-milk as Tim's balls gushed forth their mighty load. Unable to bear the tight, hot fuck any longer, he lunged backward with a gasp. Carole, too, had reached her peak, and the sudden burst of his come and his abrupt withdrawal triggered a reverberating wave of release which washed up and down her electrified nervous system.
The ripples of pleasure gradually subsided along. with the bouncing of the bed. Tim sprawled on his back beside Carole's still body and fought for breath. Carole, with come dribbling out of her asshole and her body numb with sensory overload, watched in fascination as his glistening prick shrank in twitches and jerks. He trembled as she reached out to hold his softening member and squeeze the last few drops of pearly liquid from its dimpled tip.
"Well," he said when he caught his breath. "How about another round?"
She grinned and gave his cock a little shake. "Don't you think you better ask him?"
He chuckled. "I may be down, but I'm not out."
"Oh, I don't know. What do you have in mind?"
"I love to have beautiful girls sit on my face," he said. He stretched out his tongue to full length and began to smooth his moustache with it.
Carole giggled. "Since you put it that way... "
She got up on all fours and slid one knee astride his torso. Her damp pussy brushed his taut, hairy stomach and her massive, bobbing tits hung down to flop against his cheeks. His lips snuggled into the deep, warm valley between and he began to lick the inner curve of her breasts and the sweaty cleft at their base.
Tim worked with long, powerful strokes of his tongue, moving his head from side to side to coat the entire surface of her pearly mounds with glistening, cooling saliva. Carole purred sweetly deep in her tingling chest as she swayed gently. Her heavy boobs slapped audibly against his face and ground against his busy mouth.
In response to Tim's energetic mouthings, Carole felt her over-ripe melons distend and enlarge even more. They became exquisite mountains of sensation, causing her to quiver anew with trembling excitement. Tim reached up and pressed her tits together with his hands. He applied his sucking, nibbling mouth to her engorged nipples and fucked his tongue in and out of the tight crevice between them. He acted like he had never had such large, bouncy, sensitive boobs to play with before. And Carole had never had anyone pay such loving and expert attention to her breasts before. She pressed even more firmly against his face and rotated her shoulders. Her boobs flowed and flopped back and forth across his face, lifting them both to new heights of desire.
With his head still buried in the soft mass of her fleshy boobs, Tim slid his hands between her legs and began to rub her wet crotch. She responded by raising her hips to give his hands more room to work. As she did so, he reached farther down. and seized her ass and lifted, dragging her dripping pussy up to his eager lips.
With sinuous strokes of his tongue, Tim began to caress Carole's nether lips. He tasted the musky bitterness of her copious lubricating ooze and the saltiness of his own come which trickled down from her asshole.
Moving rapidly now, he smothered her stiff, tapering clit with a vigorous sucking kiss. Carol cried out and grabbed her breasts. Her ears roared with renewed passion as Tim's thrashing tongue and greedy lips brought her swiftly to orgasm.
Her first searing, quaking peak came and went rapidly. Tim eased off until she regained her balance and then began again, even faster than before. Carole cried out; her breath came in convulsive gasps and her whole body shook uncontrollably.
"Ooooooh, babeee," she squealed. "That's incredible... " Tim answered her by speeding up his frantic stimulation even more. Again her body was racked by intense orgasm. As she came Tim buried his face in her crotch and blew into her cunt. Carole smothered his head between her slick thighs as she herself was smothered by the surging flood of pleasure.
At last Carole collapsed on the bed next to him; all the energy in her nubile young body was exhausted. Tim threw his arms around her and rested his head on the upper curve of her gently undulating breasts. She cradled him in her arms and purred with deep satisfaction.
After an indefinite period of dreamlike dozing, Carole found herself awake once more. Her dreams had been fantastic. There were hordes of pastel-furred creatures in all sizes and shapes who responded delightfully to her every whim. She was cared for in a huge, sumptuous bed which she never left. From time to time, one of the odd-shaped furry things would crawl into bed with her and make exquisite love to her. And then she would doze off, to wake again to the same routine. After endless repetitions, she finally woke up in the real world to find herself in Tim's bed with his dark, curly head resting on her breast.
The clock on his: desk pointed to a few minutes past midnight. She would have to hurry to make the one o'clock closing at her sorority. Tim wakened also as she began to stir and captured her with a deep, fragrant kiss.
"I have to go," she said.
He nodded. He gave her a lingering, unfathomable look.
"Will I see you again?"
"Probably," Carole said. She smiled and gave a little wiggling shrug. "But I have to go now or I'll miss curfew. I'll meet you at the Gilded Lily, okay?" She slipped out of his embrace and began collecting her clothes.
"Well, it's been real. Thanks for everything." Again Tim got that funny, distant look in his eyes.
"Thank you. And you were right. We're both happier than we were."
He just smiled and watched with interest as she crammed herself into her bra. When she was all dressed she leaned down to give him a kiss and then she left without further words.
The campus was dark and deserted and a light drizzle was falling as Carole left the boarding house where Tim lived. She quickened her pace and shivered against the chill as once again her mind returned to everyday affairs.
The beautiful interlude with Tim had made her forget all her plans and her problems. So far everything had gone well for her. She had passing grades nearly assured in all her classes except two, and all without doing a lick of homework. Maybe some of those teachers would invite her in for a refresher course before finals, but she knew she could handle that. Standing in her way right now was Mr. Abbott, her psychology teacher. He had avoided her overtures up to now. Oh, he had looked all right, but he had kept his distance. He would have to be a man of steel to resist her for very long, though.
Carole reached her sorority house and found Marjie still up. She had gotten in early that night to do a little extra studying. She brightened and tossed aside her biology book as Carole entered.
"Well, where have you been all day?" Marjie wanted to know.
"Um, I just dropped into the Gilded Lily after class for a beer, and I met this guy." She decided to leave out the part about Dr. Forster.
"Oh?" Marjie seemed surprised. "You spent the whole evening talking to some guy in a bar?"
"Well, not exactly."
"You went to his place?"
Carole nodded. "Yeah, we've been fucking up a storm all night. It was great!"
"You mean you've been fucking with somebody who can't help your career?" Her voice held a tone of mocking amusement.
"And what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing. I do it all the time, myself. But I though you had definite plans for that luscious twat of yours."
Carole shrugged. "He was very polite, and I was feeling kind of down. And he turned out to be a great lover."
"Are you in love with him?"
Carole just stared blankly at her. It was a thought that had not occurred to her, and she was puzzled by the queer emotional pang that shot through her. It was true that she had never met anyone who made her feel the way Tim had.
"What is love, anyway?" she wanted to know.
Marjie took a deep breath and smiled quizzically. "Love is what changes sex from a mere glandular exercise into a memorable, lasting experience. At least that's the way it is with me."
"Are you in love, Marjie?"
"I guess I must be," she said. "You remember that guy Art that we met. Well, there's nothing special about Art; he's an average kind of guy with no great plans. And I've had better lays than him. But once in a while a strange feeling comes over me. I have to see Art, and no one else will do."
"Why him and no one else?" Carole asked. She was thinking that there was nothing special about Tim, either.
Marjie got a pensive look on her face and stared out the window for a time. She spoke as if from a great distance.
"I don't know," she drawled. "He's nice, considerate, understanding, and all that. But there's something else... it's indefinable. He gets a funny faraway look in his eyes sometimes and he looks just like a little boy on the day before Christmas."
Again Carole thought of Tim and that distant look that came over him once in a while. Again she felt that curious feeling flow through her as she remembered his kindness and skill. But she hardly knew Tim; possibly she wouldn't see him again for weeks. She just couldn't imagine the necessity of seeing him, not the way Marjie described it. And Marjie had been right when she said that he could not further her career.
The two of them talked on into the night. Carole told of the little scene in the bar where he had been ready to fight for her, and of the other delightful things that had happened. They talked about love and sex and growing up and about how much they had to learn about all three.
It was rainy and chilly all weekend, and they spent a lot of time together in the little room. On Saturday they bought a quart of Jamaica rum and got royally drunk; on Sunday they recovered. Marjie studied and Carole thought about the two teachers with whom she had not yet reached an understanding.
First of course was. Mr. Abbott, her psychology instructor. He was by far the most attractive person she had encountered; tall, dark, and handsome. He probably had his pick of the ladies, but she knew that she herself was also first pick.
He was a man of unassailable ethics. A man of the world; a respector of knowledge, motherhood, virginity, and all the rest. The innocent schoolgirl ploy wouldn't work on him, so she went to her wardrobe and considered the alternatives. Her gaze was caught by a tight, slinky velour pullover with a deep vee neckline and she began to imagine herself dressed exotically, with makeup and perfume. A miniskirt and patent-leather boots would complete her outfit for the next day. Perhaps the virtuous Mr. Abbott would lose his icy composure when confronted by an alluring siren of pleasure. The idea caught her fancy: she would overpower the man with sheer wantonness.
The other teacher in question was Miss Wilson, her new English teacher. Miss Wilson was a young assistant instructor, a studious career scholar who took her work very seriously and hardly ever smiled. She had a trim, athletic figure but her face left a good deal to be desired. If Carole was right, Miss Wilson had few friends and seldom went out.
If that was true, then all Carole had to do was take her out, show her a good time, and maybe get her drunk. Then she would just snuggle up and tell her how much she admired her and all that, and nature would take its course. If everything went well, Carole would have no more worries for the rest of the semester.
CHAPTER FIVE
Carole slept soundly that night, untroubled by the thoughts and emotions that had been with her since the night she had seen Tim. Indeed, she had all but forgotten him in her renewed devotion to her plans. When she awoke the alarm was going full blast and a nude Marjie was rocking her shoulder gently.
"Get up, Carole, get up," Marjie was saying. From the look of her, Marjie was still half-asleep herself, and was not pleased with the task of supplementing Carole's alarm.
Carole took extra time with her morning routine that day. She applied perfume generously to her neck, armpits, and the insides of her thighs. Then she did an expert makeup job on herself, going the whole route with false eyelashes, mascara, lipstick, and powder. She brushed her hair until it shone with ruby highlights. The top she had selected the night before was a little small for her in front, as were many of her clothes. Her tits bulged invitingly above the neckline and the hemline came no lower than her navel. She stepped into bright red panties and a clinging, low-slung miniskirt which left a three-inch gap around her waist. To her taut tummy, curving flanks, and bunched breasts she applied blush and scented powder.
The rain had dissipated during the night and the moping was bright and crisp. Carole walked briskly along with her coat open, admiring the way her breasts jiggled and bounced under .the shiny material of her blouse. Judging from the looks she got on the way, she wasn't the only one who was impressed.
As she approached Mr. Abbott's classroom the hallways were rapidly clearing. She had dawdled a trifle too long with her preparations and she was on the verge of being late. As she turned into the classroom door, she noticed that Mr. Abbott had been following her.
Charles Abbott was tall and thirtyish, with jet-black hair and the pale complexion of a scholar: He always dressed and conducted himself impeccably, with manners that suggested big money and high society. It that was true, what was he doing teaching at some backwater college in the midwest?
Carole put aside her speculations and lingered in the doorway as he approached. She parted her long, shapely legs and stood with hands on hips, waiting for him. With the tip of her tongue she spread saliva over her lips, making them glisten. She fluttered her eyelashes and thrust out her chest.
Mr. Abbott strode down the hallway, eyes level in front of him, his handsome face impassive. He appeared not to notice Carole until he swerved toward the door and almost bumped into her. With a brief smile, he excused himself past her and headed, for the podium. Carole had been ready to speak to him, to suggest a private conference, but something about the look in his eyes had stopped her. She stood, flustered, for a moment, and then shuffled uncertainly to a seat.
Carole was baffled by her sudden lapse. She had struck her sexiest pose and he hadn't even noticed. And what had caused the words to stick in her throat that way?
Carole listened with half an ear as Mr. Abbott pursued his course material with clarity and enthusiasm. He spoke without notes, pacing back and forth across the front of the room. His command of both his subject and his pupils was excellent. She studied his manner and his facial expressions, seeking some clue to his personality that she could use. He behaved like an animated textbook, answering questions and rattling off statistics like a machine. Occasionally, however, he would pause and a distant, familiar look would come over him. It was the same look that Tim Hamilton got sometimes; even Dr. Forster had it. It was a look that she had come to associate with richness of mind and spirit. And therein, she took her cue.
When the lecture ended Carole remained seated as the mass of students filed out. A handful of them crowded around Mr. Abbott at the podium, each with some question to ask him. She took a place in the short line and waited for him to finish with the others. This time, she told herself, she would not falter.
"Mr. Abbott," she said when her turn came. "I've been having some trouble following your lectures, and I was wondering if you could help straighten me 'out about a few things... " She stood close to him, thrusting her breasts under his nose. His eyes inevitably strayed downward, but only for an instant.
"Yes of course, Miss... ah?"
"Carole Garth."
"Yes, Miss Garth. What is it that's bothering your "Well, it's kind of a long story. Do you think we could talk about it in your officer He peered at her curiously through narrowed eyes. His mouth was twisted quizzically. He took another quick look up and down her luscious form and then checked his watch.
"I don't really have time for that now. Can you state your problem briefly?"
"It's kind of complicated," she said sweetly. "Really, I'd rather speak to you in private."
"Well, if you really think that's necessary. Come to my office this afternoon anytime after 3:30. Now I really have to run." He turned and left her standing there with her tits pushed out and her eyelashes fluttering, and didn't give her a backward glance.
When he had gone she relaxed against the podium and frowned to herself. This wasn't working out to her satisfaction. Unless Mr. Abbott was in a warmer mood this afternoon, it looked like she might have to do some studying after all. Maybe if she just came right out and propositioned him, he would go for her. Men like him seemed to favor the direct approach.
Considering this line of attack, Carole left the empty classroom and headed across campus to her English class. Miss Wilson was up next, and if she proved as tough as Mr. Abbott, there would be one hell of a lot of reading to catch up on.
From the minute she walked into class, Carole knew that Miss Wilson was going to be another tough nut to crack. She never smiled or made a joke. She just kept to her subject with single-minded dedication. Miss Wilson dressed in a dark sweater with dark jacket and skirt, and kept her legs together and her eyes on her work. No simple ploy was going to work on her.
Carole quietly watched as Miss Wilson went over her lesson for the day, and even took a few notes. She would have to approach slowly, maybe even do some studying, to even be able to talk to her. So that's what she decided. She would get involved in the course, seek Miss Wilson's help, and gradually get to be her friend. Then if she could get her alone, maybe invite her out, she would be able to spring her trap.
When English class was over, Carole began thinking about Mr. Abbott again. He had hardly noticed her earlier when she had put on her sexiest act, and had seemed reluctant to meet with her. He was much too smart to coif; still the idea of overwhelming him with her sexy good looks appealed to her. Well, if a tight top and a miniskirt were not enough, she had other clothes that might attract his attention.
Carole went home for lunch, and then went up to her room to see what she could find. She lay on her bed restlessly, thinking hard. She still had several hours until she met Mr. Abbott, and she had nothing to do but think.
She lay there in silence for a long time, and still could think of nothing better that she already had. As the time approached, she sighed, stretched, and got up. She removed her scant, sexy costume and went to her closet in search of an even scantier and sexier outfit. After more indecision, she took off her bra and put on a clingy, transparent blouse that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. She put on Marjie's crotchless panties and an even shorter mini-skirt.
The result was very eye-catching, indeed. Her perfectly formed breasts pushed the thin material of her blouse into sharp points at her nipples. Their entire outline and every bounce and jiggle showed through. If this didn't get his attention, nothing would.
Carole put on her knee-length coat to conceal her-self from the rest of the world; this outfit was for his eyes only. As the time approached she left her room and set out across campus. She walked quickly, anxious to have it over with. Her eyes stared straight ahead and her jaw was set in a hard line, belying the turmoil that raged in her gut.
"Ah, Miss Garth, come in," he said when she appeared in his doorway.
"Hello, Mr. Abbott," gushed Carole. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Looking him straight in the eye, she nonchalantly removed her coat.
"Well, it looks as if you've decided to come right out with whatever's been bothering you," observed Mr. Abbott. He touched the tips of his fingers together and propped his feet on the desk. Boldly he peered at the tips of her breasts, and she felt her nipples stiffen and thrust out against the restraining fabric. So, he had known all along what her game was. She was too far into it to back out now, however.
Carole took a deep breath and stepped resolutely forward. She walked around his desk and stood beside his chair, her tits were just inches from his head.
"I've come to earn my grade in your course, Mr. Abbott," she said, and reached out to clutch his head against her breast. He didn't resist, but sat motionless with his head buried in soft flesh.
"Let me guess," he said sardonically. "You haven't done any of the course work and now you want to make up for it."
"That's right," she said, smiling grimly down at him.
He pushed her away. "Well, it's not going to work. There are some of us. who believe that anything worth having is worth working for. And I don't mean bribing people with your body. If you're going to pass my course, you're going to do the work like everybody else."
Carole recoiled, and had to fight down tears that welled up suddenly. "But Mr. Abbott, you don't understand. I'll do anything you want. I'll be any woman you want me to be. Come on, let me show you what I mean... " She moved toward him again, but he jumped to his feet and kept the chair between them.
"Look, Miss Garth... "
"Call me Carole."
"Okay, Carole. Now look, you're a very attractive young girl, as I'm sure you know. Under other circumstances I would be quite beside myself with lust. But if I give in to you now, it would be like renouncing everything I've worked for all my life. It's just not fair to all the ugly people in my class."
"Okay," she said suddenly, thinking of another track. "I won't ask you to do anything for me. Just let me show you what kind of lover I am, and then make up your mind." She had come too far to turn around. And besides that, she found that she wanted him, on any terms. Being rejected caused her to lose all perspective.
"I'm sorry, I just can't. Now go, please." There was a plaintive note to his voice. He was beginning to weaken, she thought.
"Oh, Mr. Abbott," she rushed on. "Can't you she , that you turn me on? With the others it was just a chore to turn them on, but with you it's easy." She skipped around the chair and grabbed his arm, clutching it to her wriggling body.
He looked down at her with a face full of tortured emotions. For a moment he stood there. His mind fought the feelings in his body, and it was a long battle. At last he gave a snort of disgust and pushed her away.
"Go on, get out of here!" he growled. "You have my answer, and it sticks. I'll see you in class Wednesday morning. And I'd advise you to do some studying before then. Now, goodbye!" He crossed the room and held the door open.
Carole walked home in dejection. It was the first time in her life she had been rejected so, and the first time her plans had failed. She walked slowly, with her coat open, not caring who saw her bouncing, swaying tits. All along the walk, guys were turning to stare at her. Some of them even had to sit down for a moment and shake their heads in amazement. But she didn't care. Suddenly she thought herself ugly and deformed.
When she got back to her room Marjie was there. Marjie took one look at her outfit and doubled up laughing, until she saw the look on her face. "Don't tell me, let me guess," Marjie grinned impishly. "You got tired of not ever being noticed."
Carole just glared at her.
"No? Let me see. You've no doubt been out seducing teachers again. Oh, I get it, someone turned you down."
Carole snorted and tossed her coat across the room. She folded her arms and sat down, keeping her angry thoughts to herself.
"Come on, Carole, what's wrong?" Marjie said. She had become serious, also.
Carole was too furiously upset to answer. She just hugged herself and frowned.
"If you don't tell me what's wrong, I can't do anything for you," Marjie said. "Come on, it ,can't be that bad."
"Just mind your own business and leave me alone!" Carole blurted. "If I have a problem, you sure as hell can't help me."
The concerned look on Marjie's face vanished slowly, to be replaced by a tight-lipped frown. She continued to watch Carole's face intently, however. Carole just shrugged and lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Marjie couldn't help her; her philosophy was sex-for-the-fun-of-it. She couldn't understand the disappointment of having well-laid plans go astray, at least not where sex was involved. The only person who might understand was Tim Hamilton, and she even doubted that in this case. He was too much like Mr. Abbott: serious, direct, and principled.
Mr. Abbott had taken her best shot, and it had just bounced off. What kind of man was he? Something was more important to him than sex; what it was, she couldn't imagine. As her father had once said: "A stiff prick has no conscience." But Mr. Abbolt seemed above all that. He was always in complete control of himself, always able to project any image he wished.
Carole wished that she, too, could control herself as easily. She had given in to impulse that night at the barn party, and she had gotten burned. She had followed her instincts this day, also, and Mr. Abbott had sent her away in shame. If she could only get to know him, and he her, she might be able to learn to control herself the way he could. Here was something she had already learned: that emotions and desires could cause plenty of trouble unless they are kept under control.
Marjie continued to watch her pensively as she fretted and stewed on the bed. At last she got up, collected her notebooks, and headed for the door.
"Look, I can't take this cold treatment any longer. I'm going to the lounge to study. And I really hope you can work it out, whatever it is." Marjie went out and slammed the door behind her.
Carole winced as the door banged shut. There was another example of what could happen when you lose control. She had pissed off her best friend, chewing her out when she only wanted to help. Well, she could make up with Marjie, but Mr. Abbott seemed more remote than ever.
As the evening darkened and wore on, Carole stayed on her bed staring at the ceiling. There were things she could do, like studying, but she was too depressed to start anything. She just lay there in darkness, silently brooding over the unexpected turn . her life had taken, until she was disturbed by a knock at the door.
"Come in," she yelled.
The door opened and Pamela Foster stood silhouetted against the flood of light from the hallway. Carole switched on her desk lamp and beckoned Pamela inside. Pamela came in and closed the door, and crossed the room to sit on Carole's bed.
"I've been talking to Marjie in the lounge," Pamela said. "She told me there was something bothering you, so I thought I'd come by and see if I could help."
Carole looked at Pamela closely, taking in the serious, concerned expression on her face. Pamela was wearing lounging pajamas, as was her custom around the house. They were loosely fastened, and Carole could see that she wore nothing underneath. Suddenly she stopped thinking about her problems.
Pamela had been waiting patiently for her to reply, but she still remained silent. "That's quite an outfit you've got on," offered Pamela. "Does it have anything to do with what's troubling you?"
Carole finally relaxed her face into a smile. "Is that what Marjie thought?"
"She guessed that it might have something to do with it," Pamela said. "Would you like to tell me about it?"
"I think I can figure it out myself. Maybe I'll tell you later."
"Later?"
"Yeah. Right now I'm too glad to see you to talk.. Come here." Carole put out her arms and pulled Pamela down on top of her. "Just make love to me, Pamela."
"Gladly, but there is something else I came here to tell you," Pamela said.
"Later, later," whispered Carole. She clutched Pamela's blond head to her breast and wriggled her crotch against Pamela's hip. "Now I want to forget all about everything but you and me."
Pamela raised up and grinned at her. "Sounds like an offer I can't refuse." She pulled herself completely on top of Carole and kissed her on the lips. Her agile, dainty tongue snaked its way into Carole's mouth and played around the insides of her lips and cheeks. Pamela's hands came up to cup Carole's firm tits, and her thighs locked around Carole's hips. Carole quivered with desire and hugged Pamela to her, pressing their bodies together with a lustful, iron grip.
They kissed for along time. Sweet, delicious sensation flooded Carole's body chasing away the emptiness of loneliness and disappointment. She gratefully surrendered herself to the thrill of Pamela's touch, forgetting all the cares that had weighed so heavily upon her. Here at last was someone she admired, someone she wanted to be like, and someone who liked her. At that moment all she cared about was pleasing Pamela and herself, and losing herself in the sweet limbo of sex.
Pamela, also, was getting very excited. After their lingering, passionate kiss had passed its fulfillment, she got up off the bed and removed her pajamas. Her pale, delicate breasts, fluffy blond hair, and her wide, gleaming eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. Carole quickly removed her skimpy costume and dragged Pamela down again. This time their hands were all over one another. Smooth, slender legs writhed and clutched. Bobbling, quivering breasts danced and rubbed one another. Their lips met". yet again in the throes of passion, as all thoughts were abandoned in that luscious garden of flesh.
Again Pamela raised herself up, and began to bathe Carole's hot, trembling body with greedy kisses. She sucked voraciously on Carole's tits, drawing their soft mass deep into her mouth. Carole moaned as her boobs swelled and reddened under Pamela's caress. She felt her hard nipples against Pamela's lips and tongue, and pressed her breasts together with her hands, giving Pamela easy access to their proffered red tips.
One of Pamela's busy hands went to Carole's crotch and began to probe her moist cunt. Carole panted and squirmed as Pamela pushed two fingers deep into her, at the same time rubbing her clit with her thumb.
"Eat me! Eat me!" Carole begged her. Pamela's skillful, experienced lovemaking was lifting her quickly to the heights of arousal, and already she could feel the uneven tension of approaching orgasm.
Pamela turned her body end for end and lowered her tiny mouth over Carole's tiny joy-button, causing her to cry out in ecstasy. At the same time she lifted one knee over Carole's face and lowered her own cunt into the reach of Carole's tongue.
Each of them wrapped their arms around the other's hips and grabbed a double handful of soft, wriggling ass. Their lips and tongues probed each other's slick, aromatic cunt, and their bodies twisted and rubbed together in as many ways as possible. They became one seething mass of raw, inflamed flesh, panting and moaning their way toward fulfillment.
Carole pushed her fingers down into the crack of Pamela's ass and penetrated her asshole, causing her to rear up and cry out. The sweet juice of Pamela's cunt surged downward ever faster into her greedy mouth, driving her wild. Pamela's hard tits jabbed her stomach, and her own breasts flopped against Pamela's waist as she bucked and squirmed above her.
At last Carole felt Pamela's ass tighten spasmodically around her fingers. She held very still and sucked deeply on Pamela's clit, sending her on that final ascent. Pamela's body began to shake uncontrollably as orgasm seized her in its pulsing irresistible grasp. Pamela's tongue still worked frantically on Carole's cunt as orgasm wracked her, and the electrifying touch of her thrashing membrane triggered Carole's release also. The two of them shook and screamed as ultimate pleasure reverberated through them.
Then it was over. Carole felt the urgency of desire drain from her as suddenly as it had come. Pamela collapsed on top of her, with her head between her legs, and her own thighs still framing Carole's face. Their breath and their heartbeats synchronized in the unity of satiation, and they lay together basking in the luxurious afterglow.
"Pamela?"
"Yes, Carole?" Pamela pulled herself off Carole's motionless form and sat cross-legged on the bed beside her.
"'You were going to tell me something before. What was it?"
Pamela averted her eyes and thought for a moment. "Well, I guess you should know. Everybody in the house knows what you've been up to, fucking around with teachers and all that. Gayleen Winstead has seen to that."
"So?" Carole snorted in disgust. "Do you think I care what that bitch says?"
"Well, no. It's no big deal around here. I mean, it's not exactly like it's never been done before. But that's not the whole story."
"What else?"
Pamela took a deep breath and looked at Carole with concern. "I work in the Dean of Women's office, you know, and I found out yesterday that the Dean knows about you, also. The word is all over the office, and Dean Lester is planning to come down on you. I just thought you'd like to know."
Carole sat up with a jerk. The peaceful, contented look on her face vanished, to be replaced by one of shocked concern.
"But how?" she demanded.
"You mean how did the Dean find out about you? I don't know. All I know is that you'd better cool it for a while, until this thing blows over."
Carole fell back and stared blankly at the ceiling. All her previous troubles vanished from her mind in the face of this new crisis. Everything had been going so beautifully, until this week. And now all her plans, her whole carefully ordered world, were collapsing around her. Her mind raced, trying to think of a way out of this mess. Pamela sat watching her with equanimity, awaiting a reaction.
"Pamela, what do you know about the Dean?" Carole wanted to know.
"I'm glad you asked that, because this may not be as bad as It sounds. Iris Lester came up the hard way, back before it was fashionable to hire women. She was fairly good-looking at one time, and it's not inconceivable that she had to do some of the things you're doing in order to get ahead. Unfortunately, it's made her bitter. She's proud of her position, and runs her office with an iron hand. Everything has to be done her way, and no one else has any authority at all. She hates interference, and most of all she hates men. Oh, and here's the best part: the word has been out for some time that Dean Lester fools around with girls."
"She's a lesbian?" Carole brightened perceptibly at this news. Maybe this wasn't as bad as it seemed.
"Well, it's strictly unconfirmed. But I've been around enough to know. I've seen the way she looks at me and the other girls in the office, and if ever there was a crusty old dyke, she's it. I don't know if she's seen you or not, but if she has, my guess is that she'll try to blackmail you into going to bed with her."
"Hmm." Carole smiled then, for the first time that day. She cupped her breasts with her hands and looked at them fondly. She still had her secret weapon.
Pamela smiled also and got up. She slipped into her pajamas and made ready to leave. "There's one more thing, Carole. Ms. Lester is not to be trifled with. She's powerful and petty, and just a little bit sadistic. Before you go up there like a friendly kitten, just be sure you know what you're getting into."
"Yeah. Well, thanks for telling me about this. I'll do what I have to do."
"Thanks for the fuck, sweet-tits. It's the least I could do." Pamela gave her a friendly farewell kiss and left, leaving Carole to return to her troubled thoughts.
Before Pamela came in, Carole had been almost ready to give up her grand plans. It had just become too much of a hassle, more of a hassle that just doing her Glasswork like everybody else. Now, with this new challenge, she felt like her old self.
Carole spent the rest of the evening plotting. Mr. Abbott she forgot about, but continued her plans for snaring Miss Wilson. If Dean Lester found out about her activities, she would find a way to deal with her. Really, all she had suffered was a minor setback when she lost Mr. Abbott, and she would not have to scrap all her well-laid plans.
She picked up her English studies also that night, deciding to catch up so that she could talk intelligently with Miss Wilson. She was not about to rush in ill-prepared the way she had done with Mr. Abbott.
CHAPTER SIX
Carole spent the rest of the week carefully cultivating Miss Wilson. She would go up before and after class to ask her about some obscure point in their reading, and she was always ready to interject her own feelings. She always asked about something that had to do with interpersonal relationships in the novel they were studying, and she always phrased it in such a way that Miss Wilson was forced to speak out for honesty and openness.
By the end of the week Carole had Miss Wilson laughing and joking on a first-name basis and talking about her personal life. Carole was genuinely shocked that Charlotte (Miss Wilson) had practically no private life at all. She just sat at home all the time, preparing for her classes, reading, and watching TV. Casually she suggested to Charlotte that they go out together that weekend, and she would show her how to have a good time.
That Saturday night they went out to a movie and stopped afterward for a bite to eat at a local delicatessen. Throughout the evening Carole was playing her favorite game, flirting with every guy who looked her way. She loved the attention and the extra service it got her, and she watched carefully the reactions of Miss Wilson. Charlotte was clearly envious of all the looks she received, and, after being in light spirits for most of the evening, she gradually became more and more withdrawn. This, of course, was what Carole had been hoping for.
They left the restaurant in Charlotte's car, and although the night was still young, Miss Wilson was ready to go home.
"But why do you want to go in so early?" Carole asked when she said so.
"Oh, I don't know. I just can't seem to have any fun," Miss Wilson said.
"You were having fun earlier. What's the matter? Are you tired of being with me?" Carole asked coyly.
"Oh no, it's not that at all. You're just so pretty and vivacious, all the things I never was. I guess I feel like I'm just holding you back."
"What do you mean?" Carole urged. Things were going just the way she had planned, and she put on a look of sisterly concern. Charlotte looked at her hesitantly, unable to put her feelings into words.
"I never was like other people," Charlotte said sadly. "Everyone was always going out and having a good time. You know, casual and relaxed. But I could never quite fit in. Whenever I was around, everyone was uptight and uncomfortable, and I always went away wondering why no one liked me."
"I'm not uncomfortable around you, Charlotte. And I'm sure it's not true that everyone disliked you. Maybe you just never gave them a chance."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, sometimes you just have to let go and be yourself. Don't worry about how you act or other people's reactions. If anyone knew you as well as I 'do, they would surely like you as much as I do."
"Do you really like me, Carole?"
"Sure I do."
"Then... " Charlotte hesitated again. Repressed emotion played across her not unlovely face. "Then can you show me how to be like you?" she asked timidly.
Carole had to laugh, and then quickly caught herself. "Anybody can," she said. "All you have to do is sort of forget everything you ever learned or thought about. It's like jumping out of yourself and letting things happen. Don't try to analyze everything and worry it to death."
"You make it sound so easy. I know that's what I should do, but I don't know how. That's what I want you to show me." She looked at Carole pathetically, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly and a sob in her voice.
"Well, maybe I can give you a few hints," Carole said slowly. "Is there somewhere we can go?"
"Sure my place. It's not much, but it's quiet and peaceful. Unless there's something you'd rather do than put up with me."
"There's nothing, I told you. I like being with you, and your place sounds perfect. Let's go." Carole leaned over on the seat and patted Charlotte's shoulder gently. Charlotte was playing right into her hands, and she had to hold back the feelings of exultation that told her she was back in her old groove. Charlotte directed the car down a tree-lined avenue along the edge of campus and stopped before a tiny, vine-covered cottage. As the two of them entered, a large black cat appeared and began to rub against Charlotte's legs, purring loudly.
"What a lovely little house," Carole gushed. "Have you had it long?"
"Gretchen and I have lived her almost three years now. We really like it."
Carole gave a start. "Who's Gretchen?"
"Why, silly, this is Gretchen," Charlotte laughed. She bent over and scratched the cat lovingly under her chin.
"Oh, I see." Carole laughed also. "She's very beautiful."
"Well, what would you like to do? Watch TV? Listen to records? I have some wine that's been in the refrigerator for months now."
"Some wine might be nice," Carole said. "But let's not do anything but sit here on the couch and talk for a while."
"Okay, I'll be right back. Make yourself comfortable. The powder room is right at the end of the hall." Charlotte picked up the cat and went into her tiny kitchen.
Carole sat down on the sofa and stretched. She put her arms up on the back and rested her head. The tight turtleneck sweater she had worn was pulled even tighter around her bra-less boobs. Her nipples, hard with anticipation, were just visible through the loose knit of her sweater. Charlotte returned from the kitchen with a goblet of purple wine in each hand and sat beside Carole on the couch. Her eyes easily avoided the bold, ,thrusting outline of Carole's breasts as she handed her the glass, and she settled into a nervous, chaste pose.
The two of them made small talk as they sipped their wine, talking about the movie and the class and the mementoes that filled Charlotte's living room. Gradually the wine took effect and Charlotte loosened up, laughing and joking once more. Things had reached the point where Carole was ready to make her move and she sat back, awaiting the proper opening.
Charlotte seemed to sense the change in Carole's mood and quieted down also. Her face slowly changed back to the serious, introspective expression she had worn earlier.
"Well, what do you want to talk about?" asked Charlotte nervously. Her hands fidgeted in her lap and she sucked nervously on a corner of her lip.
"Let's talk about us," Carole said. She slid closer to Charlotte and pushed her breasts out, catching Charlotte's eye. "You wanted me to show you how to let go and enjoy yourself. It's time for your first lesson." Carole leaned still farther over and touched Charlotte's hair. Her cushiony breast pushed, soft and warm, against Charlotte's arm.
"What are you doing?" Charlotte asked. She didn't pull away, however.
"I'm showing you how to let go. Don't you have any response to this?" Carole slid her hand around Charlotte's neck and began to massage it gently. She parted her lips sensuously and moistened her lips, looking all the while into Charlotte's eyes.
"But... but... " Charlotte squirmed under her hand, an unhappy look on her face. "You're a woman," she whined.
"Don't even think about that. I told you not to think. Just feel and respond the way your feelings tell you. What does this make you feel like doing?"
Charlotte rolled her eyes and pulled away from Carole. "Stop!" she pleaded. "I can't, I can't."
Carole scooted still closer and put her arm around Charlotte. Her plump breasts poked Charlotte's side, and she leaned over to kiss her tear-streaked face. "You can let yourself relax with me," Carole whispered. "I'm not like a man; I won't love you and leave you alone to cry yourself to sleep. You don't even have to worry about getting pregnant."
"But I never had a man!" Charlotte wailed. She flung her hands to her face and began to sob hysterically. Carole drew back in shocked surprise and stared at her in disbelief.
"You're a virgin?" Carole asked incredulously. "Yes!" Charlotte screamed. "I'm a twenty-seven-year-old virgin!"
Carole recovered slowly from her surprise and put a comforting arm around Charlotte's shoulders. "There, there,:' she soothed. "Everyone is a virgin once in their life. And besides, it doesn't make any difference to me."
"It doesn't?"
"No. I just think it's high time you did something about it. And here's your chance." Carole put her hand on Charlotte's leg and slid it boldly up under her skirt. Her fingers wriggled between Charlotte's tightly clamped thighs and touched the smooth silk at her crotch.
"But I don't know anything," Charlotte cried. "I won't be any good at it."
"Let me worry about that," Carole urged. "Just relax and enjoy yourself."
Charlotte trembled under her touch as Carole squirmed close to her and kissed away her tears. Carole's firm young tits pressed. against her and she relaxed her thigh muscles, giving Carole access to the soft mound of her pubis. She emitted a long, sighing moan as Carole's finger poked through her panties into the dry slit of her vagina.
Carole kissed her passionately and expertly on the lips, working her tongue teasingly across Charlotte's tongue and palate. Carole rubbed and patted her clothed cunt until she felt the first moist stirrings of desire within. Then she stopped and pulled her sweater off, bobbling her breasts invitingly under Charlotte's nose. Then she began carefully removing Charlotte's clothes. She got her to sit up and took off her blouse and her bra. She unhooked her skirt and dragged it and her underwear off onto the floor.
Charlotte cowered, nude and wild-eyed, on the corner of the couch. She watched fearfully as Carole stood up and got out of her own jeans and panties and then crouched between her legs. Carole leaned forward until her hard nipples brushed the fine hairs on Charlotte's tummy and began to rub and kiss her breasts. Her pale mounds flushed and grew under Carole's touch, and her broad, dusky nipples puckered and distended.
At last Charlotte gave in completely. Her tense body sagged back into the sofa and she closed her eyes and put her head back. Her hands came up to clutch the back of Carole's neck and she held her mouth against her soft, swelling boobs.
"Oooh," Charlotte breathed, "it feels so good. I never dreamed it could be like this." Her thin legs wrapped around Carole's behind, pressing her crotch against Carole's midsection.
Carole played with Charlotte's tits until they were ripe and hot. Her nipples grew into hard, plump bulbs as large as the end of Carole's fingers. Then, slowly, Carole began working her way downward. She licked and kissed every inch of her trim belly, pausing to work her tongue into Charlotte's navel. Charlotte became more and more excited as she worked, turning from a shy pussycat into a veritable wildcat of want.
Charlotte began to moan and squirm about as Carole's mouth drew near to her furry pink pussy. Her breath came in deep gulps, causing her engorged breasts to heave up and down. Then she grabbed her own breasts, squeezing them and pressing them together. Carole brushed her lips softly along the length of her slit and allowed her pointy tongue to dip into that sweet, fresh honey pot.
At last Carole wrapped her lips around Charlotte's dainty clitoris and sucked deeply on it, drawing the delicate membrane into her mouth. Her tongue flicked back and forth across the hard, pointy end and her lips burrowed into the loose skin which surrounded it.
"Oh Carole, I can't stand it!" Charlotte screamed. She began to heave and buck in Carole's grasp and struggled to push her away. All the while, however, she panted and moaned with lust, as the repressed desires of a lifetime came pouring out.
Carole held on to her tightly; her hands were interlocked behind Charlotte's ass, and she kept her face pressed firmly against Charlotte's crotch. She winced and held on as Charlotte pulled her hair and scratched her shoulders.
Then, gradually, Charlotte quieted down once more as the electric sensations from her virgin cunt drowned out her motor controls. She lay back, quaking and jabbering hysterically, as the spasms of her empty cunt echoed and reverberated through her.
"Oooooooh!" wheezed Charlotte. "You're making me come!" Her thighs clamped tightly around Carole's head and she arched her back, thrusting her pussy madly against Carole's face. "Fm going to come! I'm going to come!" she screamed.
She began to twitch and jerk about wildly as orgasm overcame her. It went on endlessly, as years of celibacy came crashing down in one surging flood. Carole still held on, sucking madly at her clit and squeezing her thrashing buttocks.
Finally, it was over. Charlotte collapsed back in a relaxed sprawl, still clutching her breasts into a tight bunch. Carole pulled away from her and kneeled, licking the sticky cunt-juice from her cheeks and chin. She looked at Charlotte and at herself and smiled with satisfaction. She had introduced Charlotte to the wonders of sex, and she had taken another step toward her goal.
Carole got up and eased herself onto the couch beside Charlotte's panting form. Absently she rubbed her sensitized boobs. In the process of getting her teacher off, she had gotten herself excited also.
After a time Charlotte opened her eyes and stared wonderingly at Carole. She touched her own slimy, tingling cunt and rubbed the milky fluid between her fingers curiously. She peered at her flushed, enlarged breasts and flicked, her rough, hard nipples with her thumbnails.
"Oh, Carole," she said finally, "I wish I could tell you how incredible you just made me feel. I've never experienced anything like it. Now I know what I've been missing out on all these years."
"You don't have to say anything," Carole smiled at her. "But there is another way." Carole arched her back and fluffed up her boobs. She pursed her lips and looked at Charlotte through slitted eyes. Charlotte looked at her blankly for a few seconds, and then caught on.
"Oh no," she said. "I--I couldn't. I don't know how."
"Sure you can," Carole urged. "You don't have to know anything. Just do to me what I did to you."
Charlotte gulped and looked from Carole's boobs to her cunt and back again. "You-you mean...?"
"Come on, there's nothing to it. Look, I'm all hot and excited anyway, and who knows, you might enjoy it yourself. Come on, please." Carole reached for her and pulled her down on top of her. "Come on, just play with my tits a little."
Hesitantly, Charlotte began to do as she asked. Gently she rubbed Carole's left boob with her palm and watched with awe as it grew larger and firmer under her touch. Carole closed her eyes and lay back, her hands upon Charlotte's narrow flanks. Gradually Charlotte got more and more engrossed in her sensual task, bringing her other hand and her mouth into play. Carole's boobs grew hot and tingly and her nipples hardened into delicate buttons. Her legs parted, allowing Charlotte's belly to rest against her crotch, and the felt the familiar ache of her expanding cunt. She began to moan occasionally, letting Charlotte know when she touched just the right spot.
Soon the demanding ache in her groin grew too powerful to ignore. She began to pump her hips up and down, rubbing her cunt against Charlotte's body. Her hands clutched at her massive boobs, pressing them against Charlotte's face. All the while Charlotte continued to lick and suck at her titillated nipples, sending a warm flood of prickly sensation all through her. Her sense of awareness began to vanish in the fire of want.
"'Kiss my cunt!" Carole begged. "Eat me. Please eat my pussy!"
Charlotte drew back in confusion; her hands still cupped Carole's swollen tits. "I can't," she said. "I don't know what to do. I might hurt you."
"Oh, you can't hurt me now," Carole panted. "Please, don't leave me like this."
Comprehension dawned on Charlotte's thin face. She realized that Carole was now helpless with desire, just as she had been a few minutes earlier. And she knew what she could do about it.
"Wait right here," Charlotte told her. She got up and ran out of the room. Carole continued to moan and writhe on the bed; her hands went to her yearning cunt.
Then Charlotte was back. In her hand was a huge dildo, shaped just like a man's prick. She touched a switch at its base and it began to hum and vibrate. Charlotte sat down once again beside Carole and slid the tip of the artificial penis alongside Carole's clitoris. At once Carole cried out and clamped her slick thighs around the object.
Carole moaned in ecstasy as the vibrator thrilled her. It was unlike any sensation she had felt before, irresistible and all-consuming. Charlotte watched with fascination as her body flushed and shook with devouring lust.
After a time Carole spread her legs once more. "Stick it in me, Charlotte! I've got to have it inside me!"
Charlotte did as she asked. The thing was fully twelve inches long and two inches in diameter, and it filled her cunt with vibrating hardness. Carole screamed with pleasure and pain as Charlotte rammed it into her, almost up to its base. Never before had Carole felt such a huge delightful object inside her. It filled her almost to bursting, drowning oft all other sensation with its mechanical insistence. Carole rapidly soared towards orgasm, and when it came, it was the best of her life. It went on and on, causing her shapely body to bounce and shake. Still the mechanical prick flooded her with sensation, sending spasm after spasm upward from her cunt to engulf her whole being. She lost complete track of how many times she came, until finally Charlotte took pity on her pleasure-racked body and pulled the thing out.
* * *
Carole spent the night with Charlotte, as she promised she would. She found herself listening to Charlotte's life story, every dull, dreary second of it. By making love to her, Carole had unleashed all the memories and emotions that Charlotte had kept to herself for all those years. She found herself witnessing a torrent of dreams and desires and dredgings of the soul that lasted on into the night and resumed when the two of them woke on Sunday morning. Charlotte cajoled her into staying for breakfast, but then she put her foot down, saying she had studying to do.
Carole left Charlotte's place feeling drained and exhausted but satisfied. She had proven once again that her looks and her will were as tough to resist as anyone's, and she felt renewed confidence in her ability to achieve the things she wanted. The hell with Mr. Abbott, he was just an anomaly. She accepted the fact that he was unreachable at present, and resolved to actually do the work in his class until she could find a way to crack his tough, cool exterior.
Her mood continued to soar throughout that day; she even found herself getting interested in her psychology lessons. Marjie, of course, was delighted to see the change in her outlook. Even some of the other girls in the house were seeing her smile and joke like one of the group. Gayleen Winstead, of course, avoided her as usual, but once during dinner Carole found Gayleen looking at her strangely. It wasn't a look of hatred or of envy, such as she had come to associate with Gayleen. Instead it was a stare of smug superiority, almost like the look she had worn when Carole first saw her. It seemed to say: "I know something that you don't, and you're not going to like it when you find out."
Carole puzzled over the incident only briefly. She returned to her studies after dinner, topping that off with some light reading. Later Marjie came in and they made love, rolling together in the lap of luxury in the manner that only old familiar lovers can manage. It was a beautiful ending to an eventful weekend, and Carole slept peacefully that night for the first time in days.
Monday morning came. Carole and Marjie skipped off to. Mr. Abbott's psychology class feeling light-hearted and eager. And Carole was prepared for class for the first time in her career.
Carole even put up her hand in response to one of Mr. Abbott's questions that day, and although he didn't call on her, his eyes registered her presence. He looked at her briefly, strangely. Carole was taken aback by his look, but finally attributed it to his surprise that she knew the answer to his question.
Things took another strange turn when Carole got to English class. Miss Wilson didn't even look at her all day. Her face showed her usual grim concentration and repressed emotion, but she acted like Carole didn't exist. Carole was going to go up after class and talk with her, but Miss Wilson snatched up her books and ran out the door before Carole got a chance.
Carole walked back to her sorority for lunch. She was puzzled by Charlotte's sudden change of attitude and worried that perhaps her attentions had gone for naught. She didn't think she could handle another evening with sweet, innocent Miss Wilson.
Carole forgot all of that, however, when she got home and found her letter from the Dean of Women's office.
* * *
Dear Miss Garth, It has come to my attention of late that you have been engaging in activities unbecoming a student at our University. At this time there are allegations charging you with fraternizing with faculty members, an activity which we cannot condone.
You are hereby summoned to appear in my office at your earliest convenience to answer these charges and to show cause why they should not result in your expulsion.
I assume that you can understand why we must take a hard line in such matters, and I trust that you will appear promptly so that this particular incident can be resolved as soon as possible.
Sincerely yours, Iris Lester, Dean of Women
* * *
Carole's skin began to prickle with a hot, angry blush as she read the letter. Adrenalin rushed into her bloodstream, quickening her heart and her breathing and flooding her stomach with burning acid. Suddenly reality had come crashing down around her and she stood face to face with it. Half-formed thoughts flittered through her brain, shattering her calm and her concentration.
As the initial shock wore off, Carole's first move was to seek out Pamela Foster for advice. Pamela was unavailable, however, and so was Marjie, her only other good friend. It looked like she was on her own. She thought back to the last time she had seen Pamela and went over in her head the things Pamela had said.
She still had a chance, she realized. Dean Lester was a rough, tough, old bull-dyke with a weakness for hot young cheesecake. It was just possible that the old lady had nothing whatsoever on her, and was just trying to bluff her into a fuck. At any rate, that was her only chance: to go up and offer herself for Dean Lester's amusement.
Carole went up to her room and prepared herself. She dressed in a tight sweater without a bra and a tight skirt that ended just below her crotch. She brushed her hair until it shone and divided it into two braids which hung down over her breasts. She put on eye make-up and applied blush to her cheeks, making her look like a fresh, eager young schoolgirl.
Carole gave herself a final check in the mirror, smiling grimly at herself. This looked like her best shot so far, and if it didn't work it would be her last. She tried not the think of the prospect of going home and telling her parents that she had been thrown out of school. It would break her mother's heart, and her old man would never let her live it down.
She marched determinedly up the hill to the administration building, disregarding the glances her tight sweater and short skirt attracted. This was serious business. Her whole career rested upon what was about to happen.
When she reached the Dean's outer office, she found Pamela Foster working there. She called her over and quickly explained the problem.
"I was afraid this was going to happen," Pamela said. "Look, I know this old bag pretty well, and she'll be out for all she can get. You have to play it tough with her, or she'll have you licking her toes for the next four years."
"What should I do?"
"Well, you don't have much choice. If you make a deal with her, you'll have to do whatever she tells you. Just make sure that you have her definite promise that she'll leave you alone after this is over."
Carole nodded grimly. "Well, I guess I brought it on myself. I'll have to do my thing now for real. Do you have any idea how she found out about me?"
Pamela shrugged and averted her eyes. "Possibly someone who dislikes you turned you in. I guess you know who that could be."
"Gayleen?"
"That's the one. She's been in here to see Dean Lester more than once in the last couple of weeks."
"I'll take care of her later," growled Carole. "Now, I guess I'm ready. Lead me to her."
Pamela knocked on the Dean's private door and stuck her head inside. After a moment she turned and beckoned to Carole, giving her a smile of encouragement.
"She's all yours now, babe," Pamela whispered, giving her a pat on the butt. "Go do your stuff."
"Ah, Miss Garth," came a dry voice as soon as she entered. "What a pleasure to meet you at last." The voice came from behind a huge wooden desk in the center of a huge carpeted office. The owner was a short, squat woman of about forty-five, with close-cropped greyish-brown hair. She wore horn-rimmed spectacles with little chains fastened to the temples. Her dark blue business suit was open in front, revealing a frilly white lace blouse.
"Won't you sit down, Miss Garth?" The voice was sickly-sweet, dripping with sarcasm.
"No thank you, Dean, I'd rather stand," said Carole. She took up a stance directly in front of the desk, with her bare legs spread wide and her fists resting on her hips. She glared down past the tips of ,her out-thrust breasts at the tranquil face of the bean. "I wish you'd explain the nature of the charges against me," she said.
"My, my, aren't we belligerent," smiled Dean Leser. "And even more beautiful than I had imagined. It's no wonder that you had so much success in your little game."
"What game?"
"Oh, come off it, Miss Garth. I've been doing some digging about you. You have some impressive names on your list: Dr. Cameron, Dr. Forster. I'm sure those two would be very upset to learn what I know about them." The tone of Ms. Lester's voice took on a gruff, ominous note.
Carole stood frozen as the dean coolly raked her with her hard eyes. She fought the embarrassing blush which flooded into her face. She couldn't afford to lose her cool now.
"All you've got on me is hearsay. You can't expel me for being the subject of malicious gossip "
"Ah, that's where you're wrong," said the dean triumphantly. "I do have more than gossip. It seems that one of your recent conquests had an attack of guilt."
Carole frowned. "Charlotte Wilson!" she said vehemently.
"That's right. Miss Wilson told me herself how she was seduced by a brazen young hussy. A very sad story." Dean Lester leaned forward and glared at Carole. "Do you have an excuse for this outrage?" she demanded.
Carole turned with a snort of disgust. She, held her back to the dean, folding her arms and staring straight ahead. Things were worse than she had anticipated, but she had to remain strong. Everything depended on how she would react.
"I have nothing to say," said Carole calmly. "Do what you have to do" There was a long, tense silence. Carole strained her eyeballs trying to see behind her without turning her head. Finally there came the creak of Dean Lester's chair. When she spoke, her voice came from right behind Carole.
"You have a very strong ego, Miss Garth. It's too bad that you got mixed up in this distasteful situation." The dean paused. Her voice became low and throaty. "Of course, there is another way." She reached out and put her hand on Carole's ass.
Carole whirled to face her, brushing aside the hand at her hip. "What are you suggesting, Dean? You want me to do for you what you are accusing me of?"
"Yes, but on my terms." Dean Lester's voice and expression became hard and authoritarian once more. "I've dealt with your kind before. You can't stand it if you're not in control of the situation."
Carole bit her lip. She continued looking the dean straight in the eye. "What assurance do I have," she said, "that you'll leave me alone, presuming I do as you ask?"
"You have my every assurance," said the dean, taking Carole's arms. "If you can't trust your dean, who can you trust?"
"Very well," said Carole soberly. "Two conditions: ,first, no violence; second, I want everything over with tonight. You have your fun, and let me go about my business."
"Agreed." Ms. Lester broke into a crooked smile. "Well, there's no use wasting time. Let's get started."
She stepped forward and embraced Carole. Her strong, stocky arms hugged Carole tightly and bent her over backward. The dean's chest pressed against Carole's tender, succulent breasts, and her lips sought a greedy, sucking kiss. Dean Lester wrestled her backward until her legs contacted the office couch, and Carole toppled onto it with the dean on top of her. She grimly fought for breath in the dean's crushing embrace.
Quickly Dean Lester shoved her hand under Carole's brief skirt and clawed at her panties. She tore the underwear down the front and stuck two bony fingers into Carole's tight cunt, causing her to jerk and cry out. The dean's face had become contorted with rage and lust. She leered with satisfaction as Carole screamed and rammed her fingers even deeper into her dry sheath.
"That's it," the dean growled. "Yell for more. Yes, that's it, ask for more!" She thrust her hand still harder, grinding her knuckles into Carole's crotch. "Beg, damn you!"
Carole took several gasping breaths and fought back the tears. "More," she whispered.
"Louder!" screamed the dean.
Carole gulped down her anger. "More!" she yelled. "Give it to me harder."
With relish the dean did so, ramming her stiff fingers again and again into Carole's sensitive pussy. Her other hand came up to grab cruelly at Carole's soft tits. Carole screamed again and tried to squirm away, but the dean held on. She squeezed and pinched Carole's boobs, and buried her face in their tender mass.
With the initial surge of her lust over with, the dean began to work more gently with Carole's resilient flesh. She pulled the sweater up over Carole's throbbing, swollen boobs and began to suck sensually on her nipples. Her hand also moved more tenderly in and out of Carole's cunt, and Carole felt the first answering tingles of desire. Her tight cave began to relax and expand and its lubricating juices flowed down to quench the fires of pain. Against her will, her powerful inner drives slowly took her over, turning outrage to desire and anger to lust. Her tension dissolved in a sensual flood, and she began to moan and rotate her hips, seeking the relief of the dean's fingers inside her.
Let yourself go, she told herself dreamily. It'll all be over with soon enough. No use making it worse by a lot of thinking. She thought suddenly of Tim Hamilton and his quiet gentleness, and pretended it was his rough hands that probed her.
Under the dean's now skillful proddings, Carole felt herself tensing for orgasm. She kept her eyes closed and dreamed of Tim, yearning for the comfort and delight that they had shared. Ms. Lester's fingers worked feverishly in her cunt; her thumb stroked her throbbing clit.
"Well, well, Iris. You've been holding out on me," came a familiar whining voice from across the room.
Carole and Dean Lester rose up in surprise. Standing in the doorway to the adjoining conference chamber was Gayleen Winstead. She stood aggressively, hands on hips; her eyes hard and her nostrils flaring. She was dressed only in a black lace bra with holes around her nipples and full-length black stockings with a garter belt and thigh-top patent-leather boots.
Carole just stared in horror, with her skirt and her sweater hiked up. Gayleen's huge, pink-tipped breasts rose and fell with her controlled breathing.
"You were supposed to wait until I was through with her," said the dean angrily. "She was just about ready to come. Weren't you, honey?" The dean jammed her hand once more, viciously, into Carole's cunt.
"I got tired of waiting," said Gayleen arrogantly. "It's part of the deal, I have to have my fun, too."
"What deal?" Carole blurted. "She's not part of any deal," she said to the dean.
The dean pulled herself away from Carole and stood up. "Ah, but she is," she told Carole. "We agreed that this would done on my terms. And Gayleen here is part of the deal."
"We agreed that you could have your fun, but not her. Not her," Carole said desperately.
"Maybe I get my fun by watching," said the dean. "So I'm afraid you'll just have to ,go along and do what Gayleen says."
"Besides," said Gayleen, still staring at Carole. "Who do you think got you into this, anyway? Dean Lester would never have known about your dirty tricks if it hadn't been for me."
"You just had to get back at me. didn't you?" Carole seethed. "Why you dirty, bloated, scheming bitch!"
The Dean just stared at her impassively. Gayleen's frown darkened into a fierce grimace. "So you say," Gayleen said calmly. Then, to the dean: "Tie her up, Iris, and let's get started."
Carole jumped up and hurriedly rearranged her clothes. "Oh no!" she said. "I'm not holding still for that. I'm not going to be helpless with her around!"
The dean was suddenly solicitous. "Now, now. I'll admit that Gayleen's request is distasteful, but you got yourself into this. Or would you rather I completed my report?"
Carole looked carefully from Dean Lester to Gayleen and back again. They had her bracketed, blocking her way to the exits. And they held all the cards in this game. Her career depended on what happened next. If she could endure it, she would be free of their ugly clutches.
"Okay," she said. "I don't have any choice. But remember, nothing violent."
Gayleen tossed back her head and laughed heartily. "No, no. No pain. But you'll be wishing for any kind of sensation before I'm through. Now tie her up!"
The dean also smiled. She and Gayleen exchanged inscrutable looks. "I think you and I should do as she says, Miss Garth. Would you lie down on the floor, please?"
Resolutely Carole moved to the center of the floor and spread-eagled herself. She wrapped herself in the armor of her own ego, awaiting Gayleen's inevitable lances. She relaxed her body and put her mind far away. Let them go ahead and exercise their perversions, she thought, and wake me when it's over.
Dean Lester went to a closet and came back with a handful of leather straps. Each one was tied to a miniature dog collar, their other ends being long and free. The dean knelt and fastened one collar to each of Carole's four limbs, and the end of each strap to the legs of her heavy furniture. She didn't pull them torturously tight, but they stretched Carole's limbs out fully and allowed her no freedom of movement. When she had finished, Gayleen moved over and poised herself between Carole's outspread legs.
"Why don't you go slip into something more comfortable, Iris? Can't you see that Carole and I want to be alone?"
Almost meekly, Dean Lester moved off behind her desk and vanished from Carole's sight. Carole heard the sounds of cloth on cloth.
Slowly, intently, Gayleen lowered herself to all fours between Carole's legs. There was a hideous leer on her painted face, and her breasts nearly brushed the floor between her hands. With an aura of long-repressed anticipation, she began to suck on Carole's big toe, Dimly, Carole was aware of a shudder passing through her limp body. From far away, she registered the tickling of Gayleen's lips on her toes and the sounds of lusty sucking.
Gradually Gayleen worked over each of Carole's toes in turn, taking them into her pursed lips and forcing her tongue into the cracks between. Then she moved on to her feet and ankles, bathing them with saliva from her broad, outstretched tongue. She seemed intent upon covering every inch of Carole's long, tanned legs. She moved up one leg and down the other, licking from toe to toe and bypassing only the furry arch of her crotch.
Carole continued to ignore her, even though the chill of her breath upon her wet skin and the light, titillating touch of her tongue distracted her more and more. She also ignored the straps that bound her wrists and ankles. They were securely held by the weight of the furniture. Though she could squirm out of Gayleen's touch at any time, she couldn't go far. And there was no way to prevent her from doing what she pleased.
Tickling, chilling sensations continued to make their way up the length of Carole's outspread body, chipping away at the mental armor with which she had shielded herself. Relentlessly, thoroughly, Gayleen made her slimy way up and down her legs, again stopping just short of her vulnerable cunt. just as the sensation was becoming too intense for Carole to ignore any longer, Gayleen moved back and began again. This time it was her dancing, probing fingers that tickled and pinched their way over Carole's awakening skin.
"Again Carole forced herself to relax. She was alarmed and disgusted to realize how sexually wound-up she was becoming. She kept her mind passive and indifferent as Gayleen finished with. her legs and moved on to her arms. Again there was slimy tickling of Gayleen's tongue and the snuffling of her breath in the hollows of her armpits. Even as her skin responded with goose bumps and unheeded pricklings, her mind remained untouched.
Gayleen's lapping sucking mouth made moist pathways down her arms and she nuzzled softly in the hollow of her neck: Gayleen nibbled at her ears and blew her hot breath over the saliva-covered down of her neck and shoulders. Painstakingly, she patiently stimulated every nerve she came to.
At last the subtle, enticing ebb and flow of sensation began to get to Carole once more. Grimly she fought to regain control of her nervous system, but found her willpower dissolving under Gayleen's relentless, authoritative caresses. Every hair on her body became erect as Gayleen pulled up her sweater and lowered her mouth over her plump, inviting boobs. Her cunt began to moisten and expand as Gayleen sucked at the hardened buttons of her nipples and licked her sweet melons.
Carole lost her grasp of her last bit of self-control. Her body began to squirm under Gayleen's insistent probing and licking. She arched her back, forcing the full globe of her distended breast against Gayleen's greedy, sucking face. Gayleen seemed to take no notice of her sudden response and maintained her own slow, meticulous pace. She devoured Carole's tits and moved on, downward, leaving them hot and itching.
Lower still Gayleen moved, licking and nuzzling the sensitive, exposed plain of her belly. Carole's body bucked and jerked against the leather straps as she struggled. in vain, alternatively seeking and avoiding the maddening touch of Gayleen's tongue.
Now Gayleen, too, began to breathe more deeply. Her movements became less controlled and her body began to sway, causing her own huge tits to brush Carole's nipples. Then she rose up and repositioned herself once more between Carole's thrashing legs. Still with exaggerated care, she began the final titillation. Slowly, dexterously, Gayleen moved her mouth in circles around Carole's yearning, dripping cunt. She tormented Carole, teasing her with in-direct, too-gentle stimulation.
Carole began to groan and thrash about ever more feverishly. Once again, the sensations of her over-loaded nerves overwhelmed her. She bounced and heaved against her bindings, struggling to ram her demanding cunt into Gayleen's insolent, infuriating face.
It went on that way endlessly. Gayleen squatted between her slick, flexing thighs, gleefully rocking back and forth. The dripping of her own crotch and the hot flush in her face and breasts told the story of her excitement as, intently, she held Carole balanced on the brink of orgasm.
Tormented as she was, unable to concentrate on anything but the unattainable release of orgasm, Carole heard a voice calling through the dense fog of her arousal.
"Gayleen! Gayleen!" came the voice, tense and demanding.
If Gayleen heard the voice, she made no sign. Still she hunched over Carole's crotch. Still her careful tongue denied Carole the final thrill she sought so desperately.
"By heavens! Gayleen, come here!" bellowed the voice.
Gayleen jerked back and looked behind her. At that moment, freed from her sensory overload, Carole realized that it was the dean's voice, calling Gayleen off her. Orgasm fled her, and her mind returned crystal-clear. A long, shuddering sigh of relief shook her bound form.
Gayleen got up and ran around behind the desk. Underneath the desk Carole could see her kneeling between the dean's legs. Immediately there came the familiar sounds of feverish moaning and sucking lips.
Carole concentrated grimly on getting herself out bf there. Her legs were tied to the unmovable desk, and one arm was fastened to an equally heavy couch. But the other arm was held by a chair, and with a desperately powerful flexing of her whole frame, she managed to drag it a few inches in her direction.
Again she flexed, and again the chair moved. Gayleen and Dean Lester were still occupied, but the pace of their activity told Carole that she would have to hurry to escape unnoticed. Another mighty heave brought the leg of the chair just into her reach. She forced calmness upon herself and set about untying the strap which held her.
Endless minutes and two broken fingernails later, Carole had the thong undone. With her free hand she quickly unbuckled the collars around her other wrist and her ankles. Staying close to the floor, she hurriedly got her clothes rearranged and crawled to the door. Still the sounds of passion came undimished from behind the desk.
Carole got the door open and crawled through, giving silent thanks that the outer office was dark and unoccupied. She stood up and took a last look into her recent ,prison.. There sat Dean Lester, sprawled back in her swivel chair, wearing only a tight, black-rubber bikini. Folds of wrinkled fat oozed over the confines of her suit, now quivering and shaking with uncontrolled lust. Gayleen still crouched between her legs, intently pawing and mouthing the hideous black recesses of her crotch.
With a final scream of hate and disgust, Carole turned and fled. She ran out of the office and down the darkened hallway, desperately fleeing the cries of lust which echoed after her.
As she clashed down the long corridor, part of her mind remembered a dream she had had long, long ago. Only in that dream she had come to these halls seeking power and influence. Now she had looked upon the face of power and turned away in disgust. The corridor was her way out, and she was going for all she was worth. Far, far behind her could still be heard the raucous, distorted shrill of maniacal laughter.
The cold air of outdoors shocked her back into herself. She slowed to a brisk walk and folded her arms tightly against the chill. It dawned upon her that it was over now, for better or worse. The dean would come to her warped senses and resolve her case one way or the other. It hardly mattered to her what happened. All that mattered was that she was out of that place, once and for all. She would never go back there. She would never again surrender herself to fate that way, even it meant working her tail off in school.
Gradually the tremors of her overwrought nervous system quieted, to be replaced by a feeling of deep calm. Her way was once again clear to her. She would learn to live over again. She would learn to love. She would behave as normal people did and take the pleasures and the heartbreaks that they endured. If only she could find someone who would accept her as a normal person.
The thumping of a jukebox suddenly brought the world into sharp focus. She stood on an empty, street-lit sidewalk. Dry leaves danced and scurried around her feet, borne by the fitful autumn breeze. Though she was dressed only in a tiny skirt and a thin sweater, she no longer felt the chill.
There, before her, its ancient door extending a warm shaft of light, was the Gilded Lily Cafe. Inside, people moved about and tickled the night with their laughter. They no longer seemed pathetic and misguided to her; instead they represented life and love.
She knew somehow that Tim would be inside, and he was. He saw her when she was halfway across the room and rushed to meet her. There, with jolly people goggling at them from all sides, they kissed.
"I've been waiting for you," Tim breathed into her ear. "I knew you'd come."
