The week before Easter is a period of religious meditation throughout much of the world; it is the most sacred time of all of the Christian holidays, containing as it does three major Holy days during the week. Within the last three major Holy days during the week. Within the last three decades, however, the week has become famous for still another reason-one diametrically opposed to religion-and many people, especially those in the resort areas of the United States, now refer to the period as "hell week."
The Runaway Teenager is the story of a small resort town and the young hedonists who invade it in search of sexual thrills and excitement. It is also the story of people who prey on the young revelers and encourage them in their wantonness, and the innocent people who are caught in a crossfire of sexual sadism and avarice.
The novel, although purely a work of fiction, is nonetheless based on something that actually happened.
During the summer of 1968, Rear Window Series author Mary Jenkins was in the United States working on a major magazine assignment for an English publisher. In one small Southern town she uncovered the fact that the local police chief had incarcerated a 14-year-old girl two months previously and that the girl had never been formally charged with any crime. The girl told reporters that she had been used as a virtual sex slave by the chief, forced to cater sexually to him and his cohorts.
Author Mary Jenkins was so impressed by this incident that she vowed to someday write a novel dealing with the situation and the political-moral climate that would permit such a thing to happen.
In The Runaway Teenager she has used this incident to skillfully blend all of the excitement of Hell Week with a penetrating character study of two morally corrupt men who use their law enforcement positions to instill terror instead of security.
On a deeper level, the book follows the awakening of a 15 year-old girl, Mary Anne Jenkins. Overnight she grows from childhood to womanhood, and at the end of the book-after a night of sexual abuse almost beyond description-it is she who, "dry-eyed, head high and unflinching" is prepared to face reality about herself and the world in which she lives.
Liverpool Library Press feels it must print this book because it so graphically shows what can happen when honest, law-abiding citizens abdicate their responsibilities and permit ruthless men to achieve a position of power in a community. The candid sexual scenes may offend some readers, but we feel they are an integral part of the story-based as they are on something that actually occurred.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Stan Rogers unscrewed the cap from another bottle of beer and let the top drop where it joined five others on the living room floor. Tilting his head back, he finished off half of the contents before lowering it, his Adam's apple jerking obscenely against the thick bull-like neck muscles.
"All right, baby," he said aloud, speaking to himself as he scratched his barrel like chest, "let's see if we can do a little better this time." He aimed a dart at a makeshift dart board where a Xeroxed copy of his discharge from the United States Navy had been pasted over the normal target. The discharge had crudely drawn ringed target areas, with two bulls eyes-one over the signature of his commanding officer, the other over the Secretary of the Navy. Both of these luminaries were worth ten points; a dart embedded any-where in the wording United States Navy, was worth five points. A strike on any portion of the name Stanley L. Rogers or his serial number was minus ten points. A third target area was encircled over die discharge date; that was worth a bonus of fifteen points... it was a day he would remember forever.
He unleashed the dart; it flew through the air like a wingless humming bird to dig into the name of his Commanding Officer. "Game," he said smugly, "and it serves you right, you fucking bastard; I only wish it had gone up your fat ass."
Rogers heard the clock chiming four times in the outer office. He had called a meeting of the coloured staff of the Paradise Motor Inn for three-thirty, the time when they normally got off work. It was Stan's policy to keep them waiting; after all, it was common knowledge that the Pistola Beach niggers didn't do anything but drink, fuck, and raise hell... that is when they weren't fooling around collecting good money for lousy work. So, it was simply his Christian duty to see that they stayed out of trouble, even if it was for just another thirty minutes or...
He continued to stare malevolently at the Navy discharge as he put on his brightly coloured floral shirt which was just tight enough to gape open, revealing a belly so hairy that it would have done justice to a wild boar. The Navy! That had been the only thing that mattered in his life... until he came to Pistola Beach, and even here, there seemed to be something missing, although there was Sheriff Peabody. Rogers had joined the Navy in 1943, his bull-like strength and authoritarian disposition making him a natural selection for the Shore Patrol. Twenty-three years he had spent in the Shore Patrol until the "New Navy" bastards had forced him out... as though he were a contagious leper, or had committed some unspeakable crime. All he had done, and it was something he had done at least three times a week ever since he had joined the Shore Patrol, was to teach some smartass drunk punk to keep his flipping mouth shut.
A little working over never hurt anyone; it had cured a lot of punks with verbal diarrhea. It had changed a lot of worthless, loud-mouthed, immature snot-nose kids into real Navy men-Sailors who respected authority. A back of the hand, a carefully placed boot in the nuts or the ribs, a little jab or two into the kidney area... all of these were the equivalent to ten hours on any psychiatrist's couch, and was a hell of a lot more beneficial besides. It was just his luck to get involved with one of the "hero" types, a smart ass who was still carrying some shrapnel around that he had picked up in Vietnam. When Rogers had worked the kid over, the metal moved from the kidneys into a portion of the spinal cord. Hell, even then there hadn't been any real permanent damage. The medics had said the kid would be walking again in about six months... and it was the punk's own fault for getting drunk and obnoxious. Still, the goddamned "New Navy" bastards hadn't seen it that way. They offered Rogers his choice of an immediate discharge or a Flag inquiry, which could get him two years at hard labor.
Some choice! Christ, they would crucify him simply because he was old Navy. Even so, he had been prepared to fight it until he heard some "New Navy" Lieutenant, who apparently was going to act as prosecutor, refer to him-right to his face-as "just about as bad as any Nazi concentration camp guard." Rogers had known then he was licked. He took his discharge and came to Pistola Beach, where he immediately romanced the 55 year-old alcoholic owner of the Paradise Motor Inn.
Within a year he had helped her drink herself to death-the stupid old hag! She'd had a pussy like a prune, and usually was so damned drunk she didn't know whether she was being ploughed or not. Well, screw her! She was gone now, and in spite of the protests by her two sons, who hadn't bothered to write or call her for almost three years, the entire estate went to Rogers. He felt as if he had earned every penny of it. Hell, if it weren't for Sheriff Tad Peabody, Rogers would have gone out of his mind the first two weeks here in this miserable little section of Eastern Florida. He and the Sheriff saw things-practically everything-the same way. There were only two or three weeks of the year when things really got interesting here: the upcoming Hell Week, which started tomorrow, the first week after school let out, and the week before school started again.
God-damn, the place really swung then, and he and Sheriff Peabody helped make it swing. There was action everywhere-action for Rogers as a reserve Deputy Sheriff to work out his pent up frustrations on a bunch of smart-ass college kids, and action for Peabody and Rogers, both of whom liked their cunt young... the younger the better! Well... maybe not younger than eighteen or nineteen, although there had been a big-titted, really talented eighteen year old three years ago who looked like twenty and who, after feeling a real cock inside her, promptly decided she really dug older men. The only problem was the little bitch had given them both a dose of the clap in spite of the fact that they were wearing rubbers. God damn! That was the trouble, you just couldn't trust any of these kids anymore.
Stan was still grumbling to himself at 4:15 when he walked into the laundry room where the seven maids, maintenance man, and the two gardeners were waiting. They immediately fell silent as he came in. Rogers liked that. It wasn't the same thing as snapping to proper attention, but just about as good. He wasted no time in letting them know the score.
"All right," he barked, "I'm telling you this just once; I'm not going to repeat it. Get it right the first time! Tomorrow begins the Easter Vacation for white kids from up north. We're booked solid. That means you're going to have to work your asses off, and, for a change, earn your money. Just because I'm working all week as a deputy Sheriff don't mean I won't be watching. I don't want to hear no complaints from anyone about you. If you don't like the job here, then get out now. If I have to fire any of you because of back-talk to the guests, then you can just go beg for your money.
Is that understood?" He glared around him at the seven women and three men.
"Is it?" he snapped. "Answer."
"Yes, sir," the muted subservient voices came from all except Daniel, the tall brooding black maintenance man, and from his sister, Melody.
"Well, boy?" Rogers asked Daniel. "You got any complaints?"
Daniel sullenly shook his head; his eyes were glowing with suppressed anger. Rogers was amused. He knew that someday the maintenance man was going to strike at him or pull a knife. The day that happened was the day the black son of a bitch was going up the river for a spell; the charge would be assault with a deadly weapon or attempted murder. Peabody would see that the charge stuck!
Rogers' glance switched to Melody; she had a half-knowing grin on her face. That's the trouble, Stan thought in frustrated anger, you let one of these black bitches get her hooks into you and you're dead so far as respect is concerned. He knew by her expression that she could feel his pent-up frustration; he was pretty sure that she also knew he had been playing darts again. Oddly enough, in three years of balling her, that had been the only time he had ever struck her... when she had thrown a dart at his board. He had backhanded her half-way across the room, and it was a tribute to her natural feminine intelligence that she didn't have to be told why she had been struck.
Now as she watched him through half-down-cast eyes, Melody said to herself, "Well, the white boss is really up tight today." She felt an almost immediate tingle of desire down there deep in the soft cavern between her thighs. He would be a wild man when he came to her, she thought, and welcomed the idea, even though she had been up half the night balling an energetic black New York lawyer down here in Pistola Beach for a vacation. Melody never was sure just exactly what it was between her and the white man. He was mean; several times he had hurt her. But he had never mastered her... nor she him. She might leave his white man's penis limp and deflated as an old condom, but she had never mastered him. And there were times, with her shapely black arms locked tightly around his hairy shoulders, as he spurted his white man's cum deep inside her black womb when she crooned, "Honey... honey. Oh, honey!" and meant every word of the endearing phrase.
Today would probably be the last time he wanted her for a week or so. She knew his activities with the young white girls who came to Pistola Beach during the vacations. She knew a lot more than he gave her credit for, for she had discovered-quite by accident one day while cleaning his study-the small two-way mirror overlooking the motel room adjacent to his study. You could see everything in the room! How about that, she had thought, the white boss gets his hicks by peeking at others doing it! Melody wasn't stupid. After three years, she knew he always placed young white girls in the room-either one or two at a time. She also noticed that usually after the first day or two, the girls would look very worried about something, as though they were scared. Someone was fucking them silly, she knew that for a fact! After all that section of the motel was her wing and she had to change the sheets and make up the beds. Those big old yellow spots in the middle of the sheet didn't come from eating green dandelion seeds in bed... no, sirree! Those were peter tracks of at least one man, and probably two. Melody had her own suspicions about who the second man might be, but she wasn't about something, as though they were scared, particularly when those words included the title, "Sheriff."
"Melody!" The sharply spoken command snapped the maid out of her meditation. She glanced up at the motel owner.
"Yes, sir?"
"Were you having a nice nap?" Rogers asked sarcastically. "I wasn't sleeping."
"Just resting your eyes, I suppose." Rogers glared all around him. "All right, you can all go now. And don't forget what I said."
Melody knew he was not through with her, but she made as though preparing to leave herself. "You!" he snapped. "You did a lousy job on my front room this morning. There's bottle caps and beer bottles all over the place. Go clean it up."
"Yes, sir." she replied meekly. She knew the little act wasn't fooling any of the other help, especially not her brother, Daniel. Everyone knew she was keeping the white boss's bed warm occasionally.
Rogers didn't know they knew though, and she wasn't about to tell him, 'cause he'd have a fit.
Melody made her way to Stan's quarters. It took her less than thirty seconds to pick up the bottle caps and toss the empty bottles in the kitchen can. Then she went into the bedroom, removed all of her clothes, and lay out full-length, naked, on the bed. With most black men, she would have taken a shower after working all day, but Rogers seemed to like her this way best... with the odor of the day's work about her and her tight young pussy all warm and moist from sweat.
She liked the feel of his big king-sized bed. It would be nice to sleep all night, just once, on one of these. To wake up in the morning feeling not cramped or sore muscled! If she were completely honest with herself, a bed like this would be the one thing she really wanted when she got married. She didn't care too much about a fancy house; if she stayed here in Pistola Beach, she would have to live down the beach four miles at Kennedyville anyway... that's where the coloured folk lived, and there weren't too many houses of quality down there... just the ones belonging to the mortician, the "high yellow" widow from New Orleans who entertained white men from Miami, and the doctor.
Melody was half, dozing when she heard the living room door open, then the chain being put in place. Roger's footsteps stomped across the living room and then paused at the entrance to the bedroom. She felt his hot eyes on her, and she impertinently made one slow little grinding movement upward with her pelvis, opening her knees slightly as she did so...
"What in hell are you doing in my bed, nigger woman?" Rogers demanded. It was all part of a little game he played each time, as if he hadn't invited her, as if he really didn't want her. He took two steps into the room. God, he thought, she is something else again. Just look at that fucking body! Forget the frizzy hair, just concentrate on the lips, the tits-those tits so extraordinarily large for a black girl-and the soft rounded swell of her flanks and ass, and her upper thighs, like warm milk chocolate, and her calves... perfectly formed. The best part of her, though, was hidden away deep inside those black-brown pussy lips. Get past that point, and the colour was exactly the same as a white woman's. Only there was more fire in these black loins. He felt his prick stirring uneasily in its slumber. Someday, he was afraid, he would want her so badly that he was going down on her like he did with come white woman... and he knew, instinctively, that would be the end of him as a man. Once he gave in to the black bitch that much, she would have control over him. It was some kind of voodoo magic.
"The white massah called?" she asked, and it was a taunt, disrespectfully calculated to arouse his fury. It had the desired results.
"Why you black slut," Rogers said, his face growing beet red. "I got a good mind to take a belt to you."
Melody smiled sleepily. He talked about it, but he wouldn't. He might be mean, more than a little rough, but that was what she needed after the black New York lawyer last night. The New Yorker had tried to be "white man gentle" and "white man kind" to her, and she had found herself wondering what in hell they did to good niggers up in New York that made them all seem like castrated cats when it came to giving a woman what she really needed. Now the white boss here, he fucked like a real nigger...
The thought of what was about to come caused Melody to open her legs wider, and she made a little animal sound of desire in her throat.
It was then that Stan became aware for the first time how hot she really was for him. She was about to go out of her fucking mind, she wanted to be screwed badly. Silently, his belly began shaking in laughter as he realized what he was going to do now.
"What's so funny, white man?" Melody asked knowing he wasn't going to answer and, as always, feeling foolish and at a loss as to what to call him. He wouldn't permit her to call him by his first name; she wasn't about to refer to the man who was fucking her as Mister Rogers; and he had proven overly sensitive about her using the title "Chief or even "sailor" with him. She watched him out of half-open eyes as he dropped his pants and undershorts. His white man's cock had begun to climb; the way it moved from nothing to something exciting reminded her of a speedometer her brother had in a Plymouth he once owned... only this penis was a helluva lot bigger and more exciting than a little old speedometer needle.
Stan took off every stitch of clothing; he made a ceremony out of it, carefully folding pants and undergarments, and lining up shoes with military precision under the bed. He usually wasn't this neat, but Melody's impatience was something he liked to see build...
Then, further delays out of the question, he walked up alongside the bed until his huge bulging cock was only inches away from her face. Thoughtfully, he stroked it once or twice, making the massive throbbing veined rod grow even larger.
The prick was so close that Melody would make out the short, thin, little red capillaries which wormed here and there on the underside of it; to her they looked like the little red lines that the government puts on paper money... placed there deliberately so one can tell the genuine thing.
Her eyes locked on the excitedly throbbing head of it, and even as she watched, it jerked once and she saw the reluctant oozing of his white man's viscosity from the opening of his glans... it came out slowly, regally, with the consistency of maple syrup and the colour of latex from a wounded rubber tree.
"You like it, eh?" Stan asked, looking down at her.
Melody groaned and rubbed her thighs together.
"Answer me," he said, with ominous softness.
"You gonna fuck, white man... or you talk all afternoon?"
Stan threw his hands out, palms up in mock innocence. "Look... I'm just trying to make a little conversation." Then his entire demeanor changed and he once again reverted to his true self. His lips curled and his voice was nothing more than a snarl of a dangerous animal. "I asked you a question, woman. You like my cock?"
Melody closed her eyes and nodded once or twice. "You know I do," she said. Then staring at it hungrily once again, she reached out and enclosed her hand warmly around it. She stroked it, marveling at the rigidity, the hidden strength, of something so warm, so vital. Next to the knees, elbow and skull, there was no part of the human body that was as hard as a prick... and it was the only part that brought happiness when used against a female.
Stan was inordinately pleased at her response. Now he found his own impatience growing, and he shifted his weight to his left foot. A moment later he was astraddle her-high, very high-with his ponderous, hairy testicles rubbing against her full breasts. The touch of the softly hanging balls against her tits brought her nipples immediately erect and goose bumps to the dark aureoles. He poked her chin with his cock. "Open wide," he said.
Now, as if sensing for the first time his true intentions, Melody stared at him with accusing eyes. "You ain't gonna expect me to do that? Not today?" And then she almost begged. "Not today!
Man, I need you inside me... down here." She rubbed her fingers across her vagina already swollen in desire and shining from the lubricant of arousement.
"Ahhh, hell, I just want you to lick it a little... make it harder for me... that's all," he lied. Then, to lend a false veracity to his words, he reached behind him and teasing his middle finger into her parted cuntal lips. He worked it back and forth for twenty seconds, watching her unseen, because she had closed her eyes in rapture and delight. When he stopped, she opened her eyes again.
Stan wiggled forward until the fine black hairs of his buttocks were pressed against her proud milk chocolate breasts; he felt one of her erect nipples pressing up against him and he shifted so he could catch it and hold it captive in the cleft between his ass. She groaned when he flexed his anus slightly, tweaking the almost pepper-black nipple.
"Go on," he said coaxingly. "Warm me up. Suck a little, bite a little, lick a little."
"You ain't gonna cum in my mouth? Promise me that! I gotta have you inside me today."
"Hell... it was just like I told you... this is just to warm me up."
Melody was sure he was lying, but she wanted him so badly she was willing to do anything at first. She had blown him before, dozens of times, and she didn't mind the taste of his white man's cock. There wasn't all that much difference between the two races, she figured.
The way Stan had placed his knees tight in her armpits, she knew she couldn't use her hands at all. She would have liked to have stroked him some more... would have liked to have had a hand around the base of his cock while she was sucking...
She opened her mouth. The oozing head of the mammoth prick immediately pressed forward until it touched her sensuously black, subservient and willing lips. Cruelly smirking down at her, Stan used his hand to push his cock down, and then, as though he were applying lipstick, used the hot impatient seminal liquid to smear it around her lips.
Almost too fast to be seen, Melody's tongue shot out and licked the sensitive underside.
"Ummmmm," Stan groaned low in his throat, giving the woman her due, as a jolt of pure pleasure arced from her tongue to his cock and then on up through his abdomen.
With the first pungent taste of the white man's cock, Melody simply gave herself in to the lewdly rising sensations. She opened her mouth wide in order to enclose the head of the cock. She let it come in just a short distance before clamping down with her taut lips. When Stan indicated a willingness to go further, she tightened even more and brought her sharp white little teeth into play.
Stan could feel the incredible warmth of her mouth against the head of his cock, the warmth of her breath coming out of her excitedly flared nostrils. He was so sensitive right now that he could even feel her tongue flickering like a butterfly's wings around and around the throbbing tip. He wanted to cum and to cum as soon as possible, but he couldn't do that unless he fucked back and forth in her mouth and get some friction. It was almost as if the little black bitch knew what he was planning to do, he thought, in temporary frustration.
Still, though, Melody was not without some experience in building up a man this way. Her tongue became imperative, swirling like a maddened dervish around and around the glans. And even she began to want him to have more depth; she needed to feel that hot throbbing instrument of maledom further back in her throat. And so, she raised her jaws slightly, releasing the teeth, and Stan was free to do some thrusting.
Melody felt him begin to stroke furiously in and out of her mouth, and for a second she thought, "Give him an inch and he'll take a mile." She still had hopes, though, of being fucked. Wanting him to know it was available, Melody reached up and grabbed his hand once again-carrying it to her warm, moistly waiting vaginal slit. God! His fingers felt so good there. For a moment she wanted to scream. Rogers played with it only a few seconds and then went back, with even more vigour, to his assault upon her tightly locked lips. She tried desperately to look into his eyes, to find there his real intentions, but now he was looming over her and all she saw was the black hair that surrounded his navel.
Rogers, though, could see her face. Could see the hollowed cheeks, desperately, hollowing, sucking as he withdrew... the neck muscles jerk as she was forced to open her throat to his plunging, inexorable shaft of flesh. It was her black and red against his whiteness. And somehow that total subjugation acted as the catalyst in the steaming cauldron between his legs. He felt the first little spasm that foreordained his cumming, and as if Melody sensed it, she made helpless little noises in her throat and sought to twist her head away. Stan merely tightened his knees in further, and then put his hands down on both sides of her head, grabbing her ears. "You bite me, you black bitch and I'll rip your ears right off." He continued his vicious fucking into her mouth, trying to ram the hot, lust-hardened shaft completely down the back of her throat. His testicles were slamming like furry tennis balls against her shapely chin. He was almost there. Close now. Closer with each vicious thrust between her wide stretched lips. And then... abruptly... he felt the first undeniable surge of semen roaring up through the tunnels of his penis-shooting like water through a fire hose.
"Ugguummpph," Melody protested, wanting to bite him, wanting to claw at him... but afraid. The head of his cock swelled until it seemed almost double in size and his pelvic motions became more frantic. Then, the heavy mouthful of his muscle and hot flesh was jerking against the roof of her mouth as the first flooding tide of his cum shot into her convulsively working throat.
Unbelievable sensations were arcing through Rogers' groin as he began to cum. He wanted to load her mouth with it all, but that would spoil his plan. She would experience a little something that way, and so... using almost superhuman effort, he pulled his hips back from her face yanking his cock from her mouth and let the white hot roaring cum spurt all over her neck and breasts, and then, moving his hips even further backward, spurted it on her chocolate colored belly where it gathered in a lewd, white puddle at her navel.
Quickly, he got up from the bed. He almost tottered in weakness for a second, then stood up straight looking down at her.
His white cum shone on her black body like large and small pearls, incredibly white, translucent, warm. He watched as she ground her thighs together in hungry frustration. He smirked, then said, "Next time, maybe you won't be so uppity."
If looks were knives or razors, Melody's glance would have castrated him right there. Stan was still laughing in the shower when he heard the front door angrily slam.
CHAPTER TWO
They had been driving since before dawn, trying to get a head start on their tan with at least three hours of sun at Pistola Beach before the day ended.
Mary Anne's earlier fear had almost evaporated with the miles, although each time she thought of the story she had been forced to manufacture in order to get away with Sharon she got scared all over again. This marked her first big lie to her parents; she had fibbed a little now and then, but never before deliberately lied. It was all so unnecessary, though; if parents were only a little more understanding and didn't worry about every little thing. Like Pistola Beach! Sure there had been riots there during the last two vacations, so what? Mary Anne wasn't a rioter, none of the kids she knew were that kind. So why should mother and father balk at letting her go? After all, she was eighteen years old-almost nineteen... and she could take care of herself.
She giggled aloud. Sharon, behind the wheel of her sports car convertible, turned and glanced curiously at her. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing. Just if any of the kids see the clothes we've brought along... riding pants, hiking boots... Why, they'll think we're nuts."
Sharon's laughter joined hers. "Good old Miss Kathy's Camp." She mimicked the copy from the brochure, "Where young ladies receive expert training in horsemanship, archery, and swimming, in a home environment." She shook her long reddish brown hair that swept down like a prayer shawl across the thin, almost non-existent bra of her bikini swimming suit. Her breasts were not nearly as large as Mary Anne's, but they were perfectly formed and had a certain boldness about them... a "boldness" that was emphasized by the cut of her bra. With her arms held out in front of her as they were now, grasping the steering wheel, the brown halos around her nipples were plainly visible. Mary Anne had been aware of what Sharon was showing ever since they had changed clothes in the service station rest room at lunchtime. The poor service station attendant's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.
In some respects, the two girls were a perfect match-in opposites. Sharon was petite, dark-haired, with long sun-browned slender legs and firm little buttocks that didn't jiggle-merely flexed and unflexed sensuously-when she walked.
Her French blood was all too apparent. Mary Anne, almost a year and a half younger, was taller by at least four inches. If the truth be known, she still had some baby fat here and there, especially around the buttocks and maybe just a bit on the upper thighs. "Cuddlesome" was the way George Morton, Sharon's boyfriend, had described her. But still, though, she looked surprisingly mature in her red and white bikini; her big cantaloupe-like breasts seemed certain to rip the seams from her bra cups. And Mary Anne did jiggle when she walked; in her bikini it was more of a "shake, rattle, and roll" effect which brought tongues hanging out of half the boys' mouths on the beach and caused dirty old men to swallow nervously.
Sharon went back to the subject of the extra clothes they had been forced to bring along in order to fool their parents. "Don't worry about them," she said. "We're dressed in what we're going to be wearing for the next seven days."
Mary Anne leaned back in the bucket seat, wincing as her bare shoulders hit the leather that had been heated by Florida's potent sun. She lifted her face, closed her eyes, and let her long blonde hair blow out like a thick golden veil straight in back of her. "Boy," she said softly, "I sure hope your friend at Miss Kathy's doesn't louse us up."
Sharon smiled reassuringly. "Stop worrying. Carla will do anything for me." She paused, assessing how much she should tell the younger girl, then continued. "And I do mean anything. She's les, you know."
Mary Anne sat straight up in her seat, eyes wide open in amazement and disbelief. "You're kidding." She had never been particularly friendly with the intense little Italian girl, but she had never suspected her of that.
Sharon shook her head, "It's the truth."
"How do you know?"
Sharon snorted. "Now just how would I know?"
"You mean... you mean, she... ah... approached you?"
"You might say that. One night after lights were out, she got into bed with me. She wasn't wearing anything... and neither was...
"Sharon! How horrible! What did you say to her?"
"Hi, Carla. What's up?"
Mary Anne glanced at the older girl, thinking she was being teased, but one look convinced her she was hearing the truth. In spite of herself, she felt her face blushing. The question just slipped out. "Well... how did you get her to go away?"
"I didn't."
"Sharon!"
Now it was the dark-haired girl's chance to laugh. "You should see the expression on your face, Mary Anne. It's hilarious."
"Well, I'm shocked."
"Don't be. I let Carla make love to me. I never had done it with a girl before... and I just wanted to see what it was like." She took her brown eyes off the road for a second to study Mary Anne's expression. "You think it's dirty, don't you?"
"It's... perverted!"
"Oh, hell. Nothing's perverted. I think every woman ought to have a lesbian experience at least once in her life."
Mary Anne was feeling extremely uncomfortable with this kind of talk. Without volition, she seemed to draw over closer to her own door. Although Sharon was her best friend, this was just too intimate, too personal.
Sharon smiled, maternally. "You needn't be afraid of me. I'm not les. Jesus! I like men too much ever to be that." She glanced to see how the blonde was taking it, then added, "You know, one or two lesbian experiences don't make you a les. I think you have to be born that way."
Mary Anne sat silently, her thoughts churning. Some of the apprehension she had felt when Sharon first broached the subject of coming to Pistola Beach was stealing back to her. She knew Sharon had gone all the way lots of times with George, and there had been others as well... including a 40 year old advertising executive whom Sharon had baby-sat for once. Now this latest confession about Carla. Mary Anne hoped she hadn't made a mistake coming down here. Sharon had promised faithfully that the two of them would stick together and that Sharon wouldn't get involved in anything that might cause an unpleasant situation if some boy thought Mary Anne acted the same way.
She knew that in some respects she was pretty "square". She didn't drink... well, when her father had a barbecue, sometimes she would have a small glass of beer or half-water and red wine. And she was still a virgin. She had come close to not being one once after she and Sharon had double-dated with a couple of college boys, and she continually had to fight off the seniors at Garey High School. Oh, she had no thought about saving it for her husband... if she ever got married, but she did feel that sex was something you shared with someone you really loved.
Sharon, sensing the other girl's confusion, sighed deeply and mentally kicked herself. She thought: Christ, what's Mary Anne going to do when she finds out that George and his friend, Bill, have a room in our motel?
Some thirty minutes behind them, George kept glancing up every twenty seconds or so to check his rear view mirror for Florida State Patrol cars. Considering they had started an hour and a half later than Sharon they were making good time, really eating up the miles. George wanted to get there just after the girls had checked in and gone across the street to the beach. Sharon had been emphatic about this-something to do with Mary Anne's not knowing they were coming.
Suddenly, in the mirror, he saw a patrol car pull out of a side road and begin barreling toward them. "Oh, shit," he said angrily, letting his foot partially up from the throttle and yanking off his English wool cap, which he knew infuriated cops for some reason.
"What's wrong?" Bill asked.
"The next sound you hear will be that of a Florida State Patrol siren." Bill started to look around, but found his shoulder grabbed by George. "God, don't let him know I've spotted him. He didn't get a chance to clock me... I don't think."
Both youths were tense as they waited for the siren. Instead the patrol car simply locked in place about 300 yards in back of them and tailed them at a steady 60 miles per hour. It was a cat and mouse game; the cop lying back and waiting for George to do something, and George not about to let on he knew the highway patrol was there. The only trouble was, George knew who the cat was in this case... himself.
The, Gods who smile over college freshmen cheerleaders and four-sport lettermen intervened at that moment when a XKE, driven by an attractive red-head and traveling at close to a hundred miles an hour, zoomed past them from the opposite direction. The highway patrolman cat apparently decided this was a far better mouse, and he spun a wide circle and took off after her.
George immediately stomped on the throttle. "Man, that was close. He was going to shaft me... I could just tell." He relaxed only when the speedometer hit 85 again. Jauntily, he clamped the English cap back down on his head again.
Bill was secretively amused. George always did everything in this fashion. He never learned from his mistakes. In three years of driving, George had gotten eight tickets and had been set down four different times by his parents-once by a judge. Bill had been driving even longer; during that time he had been stopped just once... and then the cop had let him go. But still, though, Bill had to admit that the bantam-sized little cheerleader did have one hell of a personality. It was almost impossible not to like him, and his enthusiasm was positively contagious.
The girls drooled over him, even though he was shorter than some of them by half a head. He was already a legend at Fairway College because of a visiting Scandinavian Airlines hostess who was at least 25 years old if she was a day. She had stood almost six feet tall and was built like a brick sauna. George had spent the entire weekend with her; he claimed the poor girl actually cried when she had to go back to work. Bill and the other guys on the baseball team weren't sure whether they believed that last part or not, but they did know that the two of them had spent Saturday and Sunday together at the Hilton. The bell boy, who worked nights and went to school days, had actually delivered champagne and breakfast to their room and then kept tabs on George's car all weekend.
And, all things considered, that really was why Bill had decided to come along on this jaunt to Pistola Beach. Ordinarily he spent Easter vacation and other vacations working out to keep in shape. When George had mentioned a couple of girls who were going down to Pistola-one of them George's girlfriend, the other a real fan of Bill's-he had decided with uncharacteristic abruptness to go along just to see what happened. Of course, he had acted very nonchalant about the whole thing. Secretively, though, he was excited. Maybe, if this girl fan was a swinger, he might be able to get to her. That was the one thing that bothered Bill a lot; he knew practically all of the guys on the football team had gotten laid while they were still in high school, ditto the baseball and basketball teams. But here he was, almost nineteen, and he had to he about it. It wasn't that he hadn't had opportunities, it was just that when it came to closing the deal he always seemed uncertain exactly what to do or how to act, and he always-but always!-believed the girl when she said, "No, please don't."
He cleared his throat and asked for the second time, "Tell me again about my broad, I mean... how do you know she puts out?"
George took his hand off the steering wheel and hit himself in the forehead. "Bill... have I ever been wrong?"
"Well... no." It was said reluctantly.
"Trust me."
"All right. Now tell me again about her. Have you balled her yourself."
"Never," George crossed his heart. It was the painful truth... he would have liked to have gotten into Mary Anne, but Sharon wouldn't go for that. In spite of her rather healthy attitude about all things concerning sex, she did not share her male. Of course, though, she was still a high school senior. What went on at Fairway College Campus was another thing! She would be coming there next year as a freshman; George would have to get rid of her as a steady then... he already figured he would break it off in June or July. He glanced over toward the tall, crew-cut, blond athlete, and continued his selling job. "Kid, wait until you see her. You're going to say that she's just got to be the finest piece of ass on the whole eastern seaboard. God, I really envy you. Honestly... you simply won't believe it...
Stan Rogers watching from his room, almost swallowed his cigar when he saw them get out of the car and stretch before coming into the office to register. The big blonde girl's swim suit panties had simply caved in at the crotch and he could make out her pouting little pussy lips beneath the cloth. "God damn," he whispered reverently. He watched as the petite brunette in the green bikini shamelessly swivel-hipped her firm little ass up the stairs and into the air-conditioned lobby like she owned the place. He noticed everything about her and the big-titted blonde. This undoubtedly, had to be the best piece of action ever to hit Pistola Beach, and he could hardly keep the thoughts off his face: Blondie, you and your little friend think you're coining here for sunshine, but you're going to find out what a real man's cock feels like. Oh, yeh! I'm going to fuck you both until you can't walk... until you're tottering around like a couple of old ladies.
His prick slithered in anticipation beneath his sheriff's uniform pants as he heard the little brunette's arrogant voice say, "I'm Sharon Rothberg, this is Mary Anne Jenkins. We have reservations."
The room clerk checked the file and nodded his head before passing over the register. "Just sign both your names here. You've already paid two days deposit; we'd like to have the balance either now or by Sunday morning."
Stan got up, hoisted his gun belt, and walked into the lobby. He saw the sudden frightened look on the blonde's face and knew right away that she not only was under age, but had lied to her parents about where she was coming as well. Stan smiled kindly at both of the girls, then took the register from the clerk. "The advance payment won't be necessary, John. You can tell by looking at both of these little ladies they don't plan to have no wild parties or run out owing us money. What room have you assigned them?"
"Three sixteen, sir."
Stan shook his head violently. "Naw. That's too far from the pool. After all, first come first serve." He scrunched his eyebrows up as if in thought. "Who we got in 104?"
"No one, Mister Rogers. We were saving that."
"Put 'em in there," he ordered, then turned to the girls. "You'll like that room. Close to the pool, the office, just walk around the building here to the beach. We usually hold it for V.I.P.s, but... what the heck... you're in luck."
Sharon gazed directly at him. Their glances locked. She recognized the hungry look, the dangerous animal look, and she was about to make some excuse or the other when Mary Anne began gushing, "Oh, that's so kind of you, Mister... or is it Sheriff Rogers."
Stan's barked laughter sounded like a hyena with emphysema. "I'm not Sheriff... yet... little lady. Just a reserve deputy. I get called by Sheriff Peabody every year because of the trouble, the hell-raising, that goes on here at Pistola Beach. But I know I don't have to worry about you two." He reached in the slotted section and withdrew the key to 104. He handed it to Mary Anne. "You enjoy yourselves now... hear? And if you need extra towels or something, just don't hesitate to ask for 'em."
He watched them as they wiggled out of the office, then abruptly turned on his heels and went back to his room, locking the door behind him. He was already at the two-way mirror when the girls entered their room. Every word they said could be clearly heard. The brunette disappeared into the toilet. The blonde one stood before the mirror and then dug one hand into her bra, pulling out her ripe harvest moon breast before adjusting it again in the bra cup. "Honey, lamb, you just wait until I get my mouth on that," he growled. Rogers swallowed loudly. Less than a minute later, the two girls disappeared heading toward the beach and the last three hours of sun.
Cockily, Rogers swaggered to the telephone and dialed the Sheriff's office. Tad Peabody, himself, answered.
"Tad, this is Stan. Would you believe a young blonde Raquel Welch?"
"What are you yammering about, boy?" the Sheriff s deep voice came back.
"Well, if you don't like that, we got ourselves a little girl who's built like Jane Fonda-tinier."
"God-damnit, Rogers. Don't play games with me. I got enough work to keep ten men busy. Can you imagine? Kids been in this town less than three hours now and I already got two of them locked up for drunkenness and two on narcotics charges."
"Well, now, Sheriff, you just think about it. You just think about a little bitty ole Jane Fonda, and an 18-year-old Raquel Welch just dying for some man to teach her the...
The sheriff interrupted. "You don't mean... you got guests?"
"You catch on fast for a Southern Sheriff."
"Boy, you ever say that seriously and I'm gonna have your badge faster than you can say Pistola Beach... and I'll have those oversized Navy balls at the same time."
Rogers' only answer was a laugh. The threat was a common one; both of them knew he wasn't serious.
There was a deep sigh from the Sheriff. "Ah... just when do you think your guests might be sociable?"
"Let's give 'em a day in the sun to get those nice little pussies all steamed up and ready for us. You know, all slippery with sun tan oil and sweat and...
Stan heard the Sheriff swallow, then his voice said eagerly, "Yeah... well, let's not keep 'em waiting too long."
When the motel owner hung up a moment later, he was grinning in satisfaction. He tossed a dart at his Navy discharge on the wall, then grimaced as he saw it embedded between the "A" and the "N" of the name STANLEY L. ROGERS.
Outside Stan's office, there was a screech of tires as George and Bill skidded to a stop under the portico. "Pistola Beach," George said reverently. "Man, are we ever going to have a ball!"
CHAPTER THREE
Sharon selected a small sandy hummock about half the distance to the water line. This way, by lying on her stomach, she could keep an eye on the lobby portico of the Paradise Motor Inn. Beside her, Mary Anne had a portable radio playing softly... the big blonde's breasts rose and fell evenly, it appeared as if she had fallen immediately asleep.
Sharon spotted George's fire-engine red sports coupe coming almost a mile before it reached the Paradise Motor Inn. Well, she thought, here we go. It's strictly up to Mary Anne now. She can screw up the entire vacation... or the four of us can have a ball.
She turned over on her elbow and studied the young girl. A fine sheen of perspiration already shone all over her body. "Mary Anne?" she asked, softly, "Are you asleep?"
"Ummmm."
"You remember my telling you about this four-year, four sport letterman friend of George's... Bill Johnson? You know, the really good looking guy who everyone says will be All-American someday?
Mary Anne cocked one eye open and yawned. "Uh-huh. What about him?"
"If I could arrange a double-date sometime, would you go?"
"He wouldn't have anything to do with me. I'm only in the tenth grade. He's in college." It was said matter-of-factly; Mary Anne didn't believe in kidding herself.
"He's just eighteen. And you look like you're at least seventeen or eighteen."
"I don't want to fib." In Mary Anne's mind, there was a fine distinction between a "lie" and a "fib", but even as she was weighing the evaluation, her instincts told her that Sharon had a definite reason for asking that seemingly innocent question. Abruptly, she thought she had better add, "Besides, I don't date college boys."
Sharon laughed, "That's because you're afraid of them."
Mary Anne got up on her elbow and faced the other girl. She nodded, "That's right. Remember that octopus from Columbia you lined me up with, the night I actually screamed for the cops. Why... why... he had his... his thing out and... Well, I'm not that kind of girl."
Sharon shrugged. "Don't condemn all college boys just because of him. He was drunk. Besides, George says that Bill is a real nice guy... considerate! He also told me he thinks Bill is probably a virgin himself."
Mary Anne grimaced. "Come on, Sharon. I'm not that dumb." Everyone knew how the football team was, and the baseball players weren't much different. Then eyes narrowing, she tossed out the crucial question. "Why? What'd you have in mind?" Sharon took a deep breath and plunged in. "They might come to Pistola Beach."
Mary Anne sat up, stunned. "Sharon! How could you?"
"Look, it was really your idea. Remember, you made me promise not to get us involved in anything where there might be unpleasantness with boys. Well, then I thought the only way to keep that from happening-you know how terrible the kids are down here-was to bring our own boys. Someone we could handle... someone to protect us in case there was trouble."
Mary Anne closed her eyes and her shoulder slumped. She shook her head back and forth slowly. "I won't do that. I just won't. It's bad enough to lie about where I'm going, but to he about coming down here and meet a boy."
"You've got it all wrong. You didn't come down here to meet him... he came down to meet you. And if you don't like him or trust him, tell him to get lost."
"I wish you hadn't done it. You could have at least told me."
"If I had, you wouldn't have come."
"You're right!"
"And if you hadn't come, I couldn't have come. My parents weren't even going to allow me to go to Miss Kathy's until I told them I was going with you... and then they discussed it with your parents. My parents trust you... they don't me."
And for good reason, too, Mary Anne thought grimly as she flopped over on her back again. We're here less than thirty minutes and the vacation is already ruined. Sharon wasn't fooling her. This whole thing had been planned weeks in advance. There wasn't any "might come down here" involved at all; if she knew Sharon, the boys were already en route. Well, there were two courses of action to take: Be a ninny, grab a bus and go home right now; or stay and let this Bill Johnson know that he wasn't welcome, and she didn't want to have anything to do with him.
Sharon saw the blonde's deep breath of resignation, and a big smile of relief swept across her face. It was going to be o.k. Mary Anne had accepted the situation. She lay back on her own towel, grinning. She and George, at least, were going to have a blast. George had told her over the phone last night that he had bought a kilo of grass and they were going to blow it all and spend the entire seven days balling.
Mary Anne was still distinctly unhappy forty five minutes later when George came romping across the sand like a puppy let off its leash.
Trudging behind at a more decorous rate was Bill. Now that the moment was at hand, the young athlete was beginning to suffer some qualms. If George was telling the truth about Mary Anne, she would probably be quite experienced, and he didn't want to appear dumb or unknowledgeable. He felt at a distinct disadvantage. On campus, wearing a letterman's sweater, everyone knew who and what he was. Out here, he was just another kid. Bill saw Sharon suddenly look up, squeal in delight, and run toward George who grabbed her by the waist and swung her around in circles; their mouths were joined in one long passionate kiss. Bill watched them for a second then his glance shifted to the blonde girl lying on the beach towel. God! he thought in almost stunned disbelief, she really is stacked. He was beginning to get a hard on just looking at her. This would be a week to remember if...
At that moment, Mary Anne glanced up. She caught his hot gaze on her breasts and felt the first beginnings of an embarrassed blush creeping across her face. Then, she abruptly relaxed, because he looked so little boy guilty; his face was almost beet red. "Why" she said to herself, "he's shy." He was cute... no, "handsome" was a better word... and his muscular young body looked perfect. Already she was thinking, We're going to be the best looking couple on the beach. And with the sure instincts of a female, she knew that, at the moment, she was in complete command. "Hi," she said throatily. "I'm Mary Anne Jenkins. You're Bill." She fibbed. "I recognized you from the newspaper pictures."
He nodded, grinning, then said-hoping it didn't sound too cornball, "George's description didn't do you justice."
Mary Anne dimpled and dug her toes into the sand. She liked that. She tossed her head back to get the strands of hair out of her eyes, then spotted Sharon and George looking questioningly at her. "Hello, George. What a surprise!" It pleased her to see him slightly flinch at the overtones of sarcasm and accusation. Then she grinned to show that she had already forgiven them and everything was o.k. with no more hard feelings.
Bill spread his towel alongside Mary Anne and sat down. Within five minutes they were chattering away as if they had known each other all their fives. They decided they both liked the same kind of music, Mexican food, dancing, all sports, and films. Mary Anne quickly, in succession, fibbed about her age and class. "I'll be eighteen in three weeks," she said. And then, seconds later, "I'm a senior at Garey." She was uncomfortable about doing this because she knew she would have to tell him the truth eventually.
Bill suffered his first misfortune when Mary Anne asked him to rub sun tan lotion on her back. The second he felt her warm skin beneath his oily hands, he began getting a mammoth erection-a painful one, too, for he was wearing a tight jock strap. Mary Anne lay with her eyes closed, purring as he worked his hands around her shoulders and down her back. The sweat ran into his eyes as he saw and felt the gentle fleshy swellings which marked the beginning of the succulent little globes of her ass. My God, he thought, my prick is going to pop right out or break in half. Quickly then, before the girl could notice, he screwed the top back on the tube and lay face down on his towel. Beneath him his cock throbbed and pounded, and each throb was as painful as a blow from a sledge hammer.
Mary Anne was quiet. She could still feel his big sure hands on her back long after he took them away. Somehow the heady smell of the perfumed suntan oil, together with the sensual slipperiness of it against that sensitive area above her shoulder blades and especially down around her hips, had caused her to react sexually. She knew the sensation... and could actually feel her vagina tingling as it secreted its own femininely perfumed oil. She thought, and then quickly suppressed it, that it would be nice to have him oil her naked breasts.
Gradually the afternoon light began going away. A high humidity and temperature kept the beach as warm as it had been at midday. Mary Anne abruptly became aware that she hadn't seen or heard George or Sharon for the last half an hour. She looked around; their towels were still there.
"Hey," she asked, "Where'd they go?"
Bill felt his face flush again. An hour before, when it looked as if he and Mary Anne had been cat-napping, the other two had quietly gotten up and gone over to the motel. Bill had watched them through half-closed eyes, and there was something about the way they walked that made him pretty sure that the agreed upon signal, "DO NOT DISTURB," was on the door, and inside-grunting and moaning-they were balling each other right now. The thought brought a new life to his prick. He began planning what steps to take in order to get Mary Anne interested, worrying about how to make the first approach.
If Bill had mental telepathy, he would have been vastly relieved to know the jumbled thoughts caroming off the walls of Mary Anne's brain. She had gradually grown more and more aware of that warm secret place down there between her thighs. She was grateful for the coming darkness because she knew that if she stood upright at this moment her swimming suit would be wet around her vagina. It had been damp after Bill oiled her back; it became progressively wetter as she began to think about him doing it to her. In her mind she could feel his thing down there working back and forth up between her open thighs. Four hours ago she hadn't even met him, yet she knew that probably if he asked the right way, and didn't get too rough, she would let him do it right now. "Let him?" she exclaimed silently to herself, "I'll die if he doesn't!"
Down the beach about a quarter of a mile, a huge bonfire blazed. Even that far away, they could hear the shouts and screams of laughter from the lads. In the area lighted by the bonfire, an amplified rock band began pounding out its pagan rhythm just as the last fight went from the sky. Neither Bill nor Mary Anne showed any inch-nation to wander down the beach toward the band and dance group. They could see the lewdly twisting, contorting figures silhouetted by the fire. It was a sensual thing, something vaguely seen through the half open smoky gates of Hell. "You hungry?" Bill asked, without warning.
"I could eat a hamburger."
"Onions?"
"Ah... you having them?"
"Are you?"
Mary Anne giggled. "I like onions."
"Me, too. Two with onions."
"And all the goo."
Bill trotted off toward the Paradise Motor Inn coffee shop. He ran across the highway, gave the order, and ducked around to his room. Sure enough, the DO NOT DISTURB sign was out. For a split second, he thought about pounding on the door and calling out "Open up! Police," but then decided that would be pretty juvenile. The thought of what was going on behind those doors, however, caused his prick to begin its restless stirring again.
Later, he couldn't have told you exactly why he did what he did, but maybe it was because it was dark and his penis had been painfully confined for so long. At any rate, he went into the coffee shop rest room, and pulled off his swim trunks... then removed his jock strap. Almost immediately his cock began elongating in its new found freedom. He willed it to stop its crawling; after all, he still had to go through the lobby and pick up the hamburgers.
His jock strap was simply discarded in the paper towel container. He'd buy a new one tomorrow.
Five minutes later, he made his way back to Mary Anne who was sitting, arms around knees, watching the stars over the sea. She swayed her shoulders slightly in time to the music. The rock band down the beach had really begun building up steam, and the voice of its vocalist was just an unintelligible scream of exhortation, with the only recognizable phrase being, "love-love, love-love... love-love," which beat like an excited heart in the night.
Mary Anne's eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness. She could see practically everything, even though the only light was from the bonfire and the neon signs 200 yards away at the Paradise. In the night her senses were intensified fivefold. She smelled the delightful aroma of the hamburgers and was pleased to see that he had brought four of them, because the odor had made her ravenous. She also saw the six-pack of beer, and if Bill's eyes had been as well adjusted as hers, he would have seen a quick frown cross her face. But, when he removed the cap and offered her a bottle, she accepted it with a quiet "thanks." She tilted the bottle back and, feeling the cool pungent liquid trickling down her throat, abruptly decided she liked the taste of...
Bill sat down Indian-style in front of her, with his legs crossed and drawn up in almost a yoga position. In the daylight he wouldn't have sat this way without a jock because the head of his penis could be seen from the side.
The two talked desultorily as they finished their meal. Mary Anne made no objections when Bill opened a second bottle of beer for her. She analyzed her reactions, decided she could drink three without feeling it or showing any effects. It was at this moment, as she took a rather large swallow, that she got some in her windpipe and began choking. Beer sprayed out all over Bill and ran in several separate little streams down her front where it converged in the canyon between her breasts.
"I'm... so... sorr-ree," she wheezed, attempting to breathe.
"It's okay," Bill said, grabbing his tee shirt from the towel. "Here... let me." He wiped her throat off and then moved the shirt in rough circular motions trying to dry the tops of her breasts. He saw the thin trickle of beer running down from beneath her inadequate bra across her navel where it soaked into the bikini bottom. Awkwardly, he patted at the liquid, rubbing the tee shirt from breasts down to navel and then continued his ministrations until his hand was making slow circular motions over her entire pubic area. The thought of what he was doing, what he was touching, was transmitted to his cock and it began growing with a frustrated urgency. Mary Anne had regained her breath, but her voice was not quite steady when she said, "Thank you." She actually felt disappointed when Bill accepted the remark as a dismissal and ceased that wonderful rubbing motion over her slightly rising vaginal mound. She didn't have to look down. She knew the tops of her breasts, her abdomen, everywhere he had touched her had grown goose bumps. And, without warning, the feeling of intense sexual excitement hit her again. She stared at him in the half-darkness, trying to fathom his thoughts... whether he had actually been "copping feels" or whether he was just being kind.
Bill watched her finish off the second beer. The way she positioned those full lips around the bottle-then pushed the bottle right into her mouth-was driving him out of his mind. It looked as if she were sucking a cock. That did it! Like some cobra coming out of a fakir's basket, his prick slithered along the gaping leg of his swim suit," then forced its way outside. Quickly he glanced down the bulging purplish head and about two inches of the white fleshy trunk lay in plain sight along the inner side of his thigh. He finished off his own second bottle, pretending as if nothing was amiss.
"Another?" he asked.
"Um-huh... please," Mary Anne said. When he twisted around to get the bottles in back of him, his penis achieved almost full freedom, and she saw it then. Her eyes locked on it. He had an erection! That meant he was excited the same way she was. He wanted... he wanted... she struggled to name the phrase, then finally worded it: He wants to fuck me. And I'm going to let him do it to me because I want it as badly as he. But how can I let him know. She fought the urge to reach out and touch it... just to hold it for a minute. She sat there in an agony of boiling indecision, mentally cursing her own inexperience. Too, there was a rapidly growing frustration that bordered almost on anger. Boys are supposed to make the first overtures, why doesn't he do something?
Bill, who was not without courage on the football field-as a quarterback, he had "eaten the ball" a great number of times, been smothered by six and even seven 230-pound defensive players who were trying to pulverize him, break bones, anything to get him out of the game-found himself at a real loss as to what action to take with this 125 pound little blonde girl. Mary Anne seemed to like him, but "liking" is a long way from "putting out." And he didn't want to screw up the deal... there was, after all, still seven days of the vacation. Plenty of time.
Perhaps it was the beer-or perhaps her need of him was greater-but Mary Anne abruptly decided a neutral way to get him started. With all the inborn cunningness of a female, she said, "How much do I owe you for the beer and burgers?"
"Nothing," Bill answered quickly. "I'll buy this time."
Mary Anne dug her bottle into the sand beside her, then as if it were a completely unplanned thing, got on her knees, bent over, and. said, "thank you," as she kissed him lightly on the lips. Bill immediately put his arms around her. She acted as if she were slightly off balance and put one hand out to brace herself; the hand landed right on his penis.
The touch of her hand there almost caused Bill to go berserk. All of his gentleness left him in one explosive moment and he forced her figure sideways so that they were both lying flat facing each other on the towel. His mouth came down roughly on her half open lips; his tongue-like a runaway tank-shoved into her mouth and he could taste the beer, the onions, the excitement. Her tongue gave way to his, permitting him to do whatever he wanted. He was aware of her breasts pushing tightly against his chest. Was aware of the warmth of her taut young belly against his... the heat of her thighs against his. But the one thing-the most grand, glorious, fabulous thing that had ever happened to him in his whole life-was that her hand remained where it was, only now her fingers had locked around his cock as though it were something too precious, too valuable to ever let go. And he knew then that it hadn't been an accident at all.
Mary Anne was frightened by the suddenness of everything that transpired. She was like a sorcerer's apprentice who has just uttered her first charm and is inundated by powers too vast to comprehend. She had touched that magic wand between Bill's legs, and the touch of the hard, warm fleshy shaft had changed her life forever. Her own reactions scared her; she was making previously unuttered animal noises deep in her throat, she was attempting to push her breasts right into his chest in a shameless offering of lust and wantonness, she was grinding her pelvis in wild little circles-rubbing her heated vagina against her own hand holding his penis.
She felt Bill fumbling behind her and it took almost twenty seconds for her to realize he was attempting to get her bra off. She let go of his penis and merely reached up and gave a jerk at the snaps at the side. Her ripe full breasts popped out in the open. Bill immediately took his mouth from hers and began raining kisses on her neck, gradually working his way down until his hot eager lips encompassed her nipple-already erect. The touch of his mouth there was the most exquisite thing she had ever felt in her life. She reverently cupped his head between her hands, closing her eyes in rapture as his tongue began making little circles around and around the aureole while his teeth gently bit into the nipple itself. Once, in his inexperience, he bit too hard, and instead of moaning in pain, Mary Anne found herself shamelessly saying over and over again, "Oh, yes... darling... bite me... hurt me."
Her body was afire as it never been before. The urgency she felt was a pain in itself... a pain that grew and grew, and would continue to grow, until he had thrust his hardened young cock far up into her moistly quivering little cunt. As his voracious mouth moved from one eager breast to the other, he began using his hands for the first time. One arm was beneath her, and he used that to stroke her back and smoothly rounded young hips. Soon, it insinuated itself beneath the flimsy bikini bottom, and his hot hand was touching the smooth young flesh of her buttocks through the material. He began a tentative little kneading of the supple little cheeks, and his motions resulted in tickling little sensation after sensation arcing up her back. She had been holding her breath for his other hand, and her patience was not tried, for now he began working the hand that lay between them over her pubic mound, occasionally using his fingers and thumb to gently squeeze together the softly pouting cuntal lips which lay hotly hidden beneath the cloth.
And during it all, the mewling sounds of wantonness bubbled unceasingly from her passion constricted throat.
Bill wasn't sure how much longer he could stand his own excitement. He had already felt as if he were about to cum twice. From overheard dormitory conversation and sex manuals he knew it was necessary to build up the woman, and he figured he probably had done that. After all, her whole vaginal area was soaked with a heated moistness that felt like his own cum. He wondered if she had cum. Not all women scream and yell or let you know they've done it, he thought; and Mary Anne had been moaning and thrashing about. He decided to stop thinking about it and go into action. He moved his hand from between her thighs and began working it down inside the bikini. Once again, Mary Anne helped him. She simply lifted her hips, reached down, and popped the snaps loose. The bikini lay between them like an unpinned diaper. Quickly, Bill took his hands from her and began peeling his trunks down. He had to turn over and sit up in order to get them down past his buttocks. A moment later they were kicked off, and he lay down face to face alongside Mary Anne. There was no protest from her when he took the bikini cloth from her legs; she even spread her thighs a bit to ease its withdrawal. He tossed it over onto his towel, and within seconds it was joined by her bra.
Now their hot, eager, nude young bodies were touching, head to toe. Bill's rampantly throbbing young penis pressed against her navel, his balls nesting in her sparse young pubic hair. They kissed again with more urgency than before, as Mary Anne felt him take her hand and replace it on his prick. Her touch now was a timid thing, as if she were frightened by its first fully revealed length. She began making little circular motions against her navel with it, but that wasn't where she really wanted it. She pushed it down, feeling it leave a wet slimy trail from navel to vagina, and as she did so, she lifted her right leg and put it over Bill's thigh. She moved the hot, throbbing rod closer to its real target, and then-with its first searing contact with her virginal cuntal lips-she moaned loudly in a quickly rising sexual delirium.
Bill began making teasing little fucking motions along the length of her slippery vaginal opening. God! he thought, nothing has ever felt this wonderful. But then, of course, he had never been this close to fucking a girl before. He could feel her hot little pussy lips closing over almost half of it, as if his cock was sliding back and forth inside a greased, incredibly soft, split hot dog bun. His excitement was building too rapidly. He didn't know how much longer he could hold off. Christ! He wanted to cum right now as far as that was concerned. Quickly, but gently, he pushed against her shoulders, and she turned over on her back, eyes closed, completely subservient to his need... her own need betrayed only by an almost imperceptible but frantic impatient little up and down movement of her pelvis.
Bill's body was trembling almost uncontrollably when he spread her white, trembling young thighs apart. Some instinctive knowledge-handed down through the genes of every woman since Eve-made Mary Anne raise and bend her knees to afford him better entry to the warm, throbbing mouth up between her legs.
Slowly... very slowly... he lowered himself to her willing body. His cock head had actually began a slight penetration on her outer vaginal lips when suddenly-it sounded as if it came from right next to them-there was a shrill scream of a girl's laughter. Frightened, Mary Anne gasped and stiffened, her head violently turning in the direction of the laughter. Bill was so startled by the sudden sound that he almost lost his erection. His rapid glance caught the silhouetted sight of a girl and two boys scuffling in the sand some thirty feet away. Mary Anne began pushing against his chest in an effort to get away. Bill, in a charade of silence, put a finger to his mouth. Then bending his head down close to her ear, he whispered, "It's just some kids, fooling around. They haven't seen us."
Still, though, the moment was temporarily lost, and Bill knew it. He withdrew from between her legs and then lay down on his side next to her, his cock pressing against her hip.
Giggling, the girl broke away from one of the boys who had caught her, but she didn't try to run again. "Well?" the boy asked. "You promised."
"Not both of you," the girl protested drunkenly.
"What's the difference. Besides, it takes more than one to satisfy you."
"Now who told you that lie?" the girl managed to sound angry.
The boy changed tactics. "All right. You did promise you'd fuck me. Is it all right if Peter just sort of watches?"
Mary Anne couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was the most obscene thing she had ever heard. Beside her, she could hear Bill's hoarse breathing as he lay propped up on one elbow, watching the three kids.
"We had better go," Mary Anne whispered.
"Not yet. Watch!"
"I want my suit. I'm going."
"They'll see you," Bill warned. Then he savagely kissed her, his tongue shoving deep down the back of her throat. Automatically, she put her arms around his powerful shoulders. When he nodded with his head again toward the scene near them, she decided she'd take a peek just to please him. She rolled over on her right side, feeling embarrassed... and a little wicked. She gasped as she saw a girl stepping out of the bottom of her swim suit; her bare breasts above all white in the flexing light. There was another band of whiteness where her hips and vagina had been covered. Next to her, a lean, naked young man with his penis powerfully erected at a 45 degree angle, watched the girl sway unsteadily as first one foot and then the other was extracted from her suit. The moment she stood upright, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down to the sand where he lay atop her. His mouth was wide open, kissing her, and the girl writhed sensuously as both of his hands frantically massaged her willing breasts.
Mary Anne found now she could not take her eyes off the lewd spectacle, no matter how much she wanted to. She made a little moan of desire in her own throat as she saw the other girl wantonly spread her legs then wrap them around the boy's buttocks. "Fuck me," the girl panted. "Shove it in now... hard."
Bill was about to go out of his own mind as he watched the lewdly locked couple on the beach. His penis throbbed painfully against the soft warmth of Mary Anne's buttocks, and he began raining kisses over her back as he moved himself down slightly so his cock would rub once again in the moist, fevered little area of her vagina.
Mary Anne, although with no experience, knew what he was trying to do-wanted him to do it!-lifted her left leg slightly, locking it over his calf. With a low groan of ecstasy, Bill began grinding back and forth-kissing her shoulders now as they both watched the lust-inciting scene on the beach. His cock slid freely along the entire wonderful, wet, hot length of her pussy lips, and each jab brought the huge ballooning head of his prick into searing contact with her clitoris. Mary Anne felt as if she would die at any moment.
The girl cried out again, "Don, don't fool around anymore... fuck me... please, now!"
The boy's .teasing laughter came across the sand. "No."
"No? Why not?"
"Because Peter wants to eat your pussy first."
The second boy stepped over to the couple, and Mary Anne saw that he also had removed his trunks. His penis looked as if it were almost a foot long-silhouetted as it was against the distant bonfire. He was stroking it rapidly, almost as if he were masturbating.
"Peter?" the girl asked, plaintively.
"Yes... I'm going to stick my tongue in your sweet little cunt and then I'm going to bite your little clitoris... and you're going to cum like you've never come before. Then... when I'm finished, Donald is going to fuck you and, after that, I'm going to fuck you, and after that we're all going back to my motel room and fuck all night. Just as sure as my name is Peter Watson, we're going to fuck all night."
"Oh... oh... don't talk about it! Do it!" She frantically lifted her pelvis up toward him in obscene invitation. Donald rolled off her and the other boy named Watson, knelt between her wide-spread legs.
Mary Anne tried to close her eyes and shut out the terrible sight of this salacious performance, but she simply couldn't make her brain issue the order. Never before had she seen anything like this, or even heard it discussed. It was mad, insane! If it's madness, it must be contagious, she thought, as she felt the exquisite torture Bill was inflicting on her own quivering, tingling pussy. Her body had begun to tremble, and never before had she wanted something so badly as she did Bill's long hard prick to be shoved cruelly, brutally, into the hungrily heated furrow of her vagina. His penis teasing back and forth on her passion drenched cuntal lips was driving her almost to a state of delirium. She was rapidly reaching the point where she didn't care if anyone saw or heard them, she just wanted to be fucked. She empathized with the girl on the beach and knew just how the other felt... wanting it so badly and yet being tormented so close to getting it. Down there, the other girl suddenly screamed loudly in animal rapture as the boy's hot wet tongue made its first swipe at the thinly bearded lips of her pussy. She frantically played with her own breasts until Donald jerked her hands away and began massaging them for her. She gurgled and groaned, her head thrown wantonly back in the sand, and splayed her legs out even wider in an effort to get the young boy's deliciously swirling tongue deeper into her cunt. "Oh... God! I love it... I love it... I love it! Faster, Peter, faster!" She began pumping her pelvis up and down, and then, as if that weren't enough, she brought her knees up and locked them behind his head... holding him captive as she maniacally fucked her greedily throbbing little pussy hole onto his hotly stiffened tongue.
She was throwing her head from side to side in complete sexual abandonment when apparently she spotted the boy named Donald's cock within reach. She reached out her hand and stroked it twice, rapidly, then began an urgent tugging on it. The boy moved in closer to her face as she guided his cock down nearer and nearer to her lips.
Mary Anne, almost in a state of suspended animation, watched unbelievingly as the girl's greedily searching mouth opened and her little tongue came out and began licking the blunted bead of the prick.
Donald shuffled forward on his knees a bit more and his lust hardened rod of male flesh slowly slipped through the soft ovaled lips and sank out of sight into the warm hungry mouth. Mary Anne could actually see the girl's cheeks hollowing as she sucked voraciously on the boy's cock head. Within moments she had synchronized her sucking with the rise and fall of her pussy against the mouth of the boy kneeling down between her legs. The cock moved in and out of her mouth-from base to mushroom head-its full rigid length shining with her saliva.
Down there, just as though some maestro had suddenly ordered the beat quickened, the fucking pace became more rapid. Now, even above the far off sound of rock music, Mary Anne could hear the fast hoarse breathing of all three of them-no, she realized it was the five of them!-for Bill's breath in her ear was practically one continuous rasping sound, matching her own deep panting. Mary Anne almost wept from frustration and lewd excitement as she continued to watch, continued to feel the hot hard head of Bill's cock scraping along her cuntal lips and teasing against her sensitive clitoris. Without volition she opened her legs even wider and, in time with his thrusts, began shoving and rotating her buttocks back into his pubic hair. His cock was riding deeper in her open pussy crevice now, rubbing maddeningly against the now hotly pulsating slit of her inner vaginal lips. Bill had wrapped his arms around her and was teasing, tweaking, caressing, pinching her nipples and breasts-breasts which felt so full that she was sure they were about to explode into a million fragments.
Close by them something did explode. The boy named Donald's motions had become almost demented as he mercilessly, without let up, rammed his blood hardened cock into the girl's mouth with a force that seemed to jolt her entire body. The girl merely reached behind him and dug her fingernails into his buttocks pulling him in even closer, lodging angrily thrusting pole deeper into her throat as she sucked with superhuman strength. Then, with a banshee scream, the boy stiffened as his body began quivering and shuddering convulsively with orgasmic relief. He ejaculated with all the force of a wild stallion in the girl's eagerly milking mouth. Even from here, Mary Anne could see the cheeks bulge out, her throat working continuously, as she desperately tried to swallow the lust-heated liquid,-and then saw the oversupply of cum spurting and spuming from her lips as if she were incapable of handling it all.
Peter used his hands to pry apart the girl's legs locked about his neck and came up gasping for air, his face shining from the perfumed cuntal juices.
The Watson boy snorted, then with an animal-like viciousness simply fell forward driving his hardy cock all the way to the hilt with one fast thrust.
"Aaaaaggggghhhh," the girl screamed, and even to Mary-Anne's inexperienced ears, it was a cry not of pain but of wild and glorious exaltation.
The two figures bucked and fucked into each other with a maniacal force and then, within seconds it seemed, they were both howling for the entire beach to hear, "I'm dimming... I'm dimming." And the girl's shout was the loudest, "Harder, Peter, harder! Fuck harder. Oh, Jesus... cum in me... cum in me... fill me with cum. Oh... oh... ah? Ahh? I'm cumming... I'M CUM... MING!"
And it was at this exact moment that Mary Anne heard Bill's whispered groan, "Oh... God... I'm sorry," as the hardened young cock lodged up between her own legs began to twitch and jerk. Simultaneously, she felt the hot spurts of liquid spewing uselessly out on her quivering little vaginal opening, buttocks, and thighs. She turned over to face him, "What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry," he panted, "I got too excited, and I came."
Already the life was draining out of his prick and, even though it continued to jerk and throb, it was beginning to dwindle in size and power.
Mary Anne only vaguely understood. He had cum. He had cum and she hadn't. His hunger had been appeased... and she was still painfully starving. She wanted to plead with him to use his finger, to play with her and bring her to orgasm as she had done to herself several times. If she couldn't have his penis shoved into her vagina, then use something! Anything!
Down the beach, the girl suddenly jumped up and giggled again. She grabbed clothes and began running toward the water. "Look out," the Watson boy yelled, "she's got our swimming suits." Laughing and shouting happily, both boys took off after the fleeing figure. They caught up with her just at the water's edge, and this time when they all fell to the ground they were out of sight of the hummock.
Bill was looking at her in an odd manner, almost as if he were terribly ashamed. "Look... ," he started to say, "I didn't mean to. I mean... M He stood up unable to finish his apology, and she saw that his once proud instrument of maledom was now just a deflated little piece of useless flesh.
Mary Anne worked hard to force a smile. Actually she felt like screaming in frustration... but she smiled. She hardly recognized her own husky voice when it said, "It's all right, Bill. Really, it's o.k. You mustn't feel badly about it."
Bill, acting as if he were embarrassed to be seen nude in front of her, quickly put on his swim trunks. Then he handed the bikini to her. She slowly put it on, picked up her towel and portable radio, and then began trudging back to the motel. Bill walked silently beside her, a beach towel around his neck. "Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked.
"Tomorrow? Yeh, sure... if you want."
They walked into the light, crossed the highway, and Bill escorted Mary Anne to her room. She remained largely silent, still feeling the fire in her lower abdomen-a fire that had actually increased in intensity because of the sand grating against her sensitive pussy lips. She opened the door and turned on the lights, then quickly said, "Good night."
Bill made no effort to kiss her. He simply repeated "Good night," although there was a look on his face indicated he wanted to say something else.
Mary Anne couldn't face him anymore. She felt close to tears. She smiled once more, then stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She stood there with her back flat against the door, trembling now that she was out of his sight. Vaguely she wondered where Sharon was before realizing it was only nine-thirty.
Then, because she knew she had to have relief, she made sure all the curtains were drawn tight and the chain locked securely on the door. Quickly, almost frantically, she ripped her bra off, then yanked off her bottom to stand nude before the full-length mirror. Her cunt, her ass, her thighs were covered with sand where Bill's cum had served as hardening glue. She turned around and saw some of his semen still shining on the cheeks of her left buttock. She put her hand back there and ground it into the cleft of her ass, feeling pain as her sharp fingernail dug impatiently into her anus.
Then, weeping uncontrollably and trembling like a frightened animal, she lay down on the bed-with legs spread wide apart-and used her strumming fingers to bring on an unsatisfactory little orgasm. When it came, her eyes rolled back in her head, her buttocks lifted at least twelve inches off the mattress, and she shuddered violently.
Upstairs, with an erection so large that it kept him at least eight inches from the wall, Stan Rogers grinned in anticipation as he took photo after photo, focusing always on the lewd, contorted expression of wantonness on the young girl's face.
It was all he could do to keep from going down there right now and giving that little bitch the fucking she wanted so badly. There were only two things really standing in the way: one, he couldn't get the photographs ready before late tomorrow afternoon and that was part of the game; and, two, he was due to report to the Sheriff's Office for duty in just ten minutes.
"God," he said in wonderment, "just wait until old Tad sees these photographs. Hell go out of his fucking mind." And, as an afterthought, he added, "Wait until little Miss Hot Pussy down there sees them, she'll shit!" He was still laughing crudely when he went outside and began walking the two blocks to the Sheriffs Office.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sheriff Tad Peabody was one of those "accidents" that occur occasionally in American politics, which is to say he had been appointed by the Webster County Board of Supervisors when his predecessor, "Jolly Joe" Allioto, had gotten drunk once too often in his cabin cruiser and broached it in heavy seas. The position, which paid $325.00 a month, was not a busy one particularly, but it did call for the appointee to be on call 24-hours a day. Peabody, who had worked as part-time jailer under Sheriff Allioto, was the natural choice for the job... especially in view of the fact that a professional police officer with professional ethics and training couldn't begin to live on that kind of salary, and Peabody did have an "outside income" from the beer joint he owned.
Webster County was fairly small as counties go, only twelve miles by six miles. There were just two towns in the county: Pistola Beach, which had been slowly dying for the last fifteen years and would be in the throes of rigor mortis even now if it weren't for the two or three weeks annually when the college kids hit it like a swarm of colorful locusts; and Kennedyville, three miles south, which was inhabited entirely by Negroes.
Peabody's first official act as Sheriff was to install the Negro whore house bouncer as a volunteer deputy sheriff in Kennedyville, with orders not to bother him with ordinary run of the mill Negro knifings and wife beatings and burglaries. By this means alone, Peabody could point to the records and show that he had "integrated" his department and cut Webster County's serious crime rate in half since he took office.
The second thing he had done was line up ten white deputies who could handle themselves and who thought the same way about things as he did. "Jolly Joe" had missed a good bet while he was Sheriff; he let kids do damned near anything as long as they kept it down to a small bedlam and didn't hurt anyone or damage property. Not Tad Peabody, however! He had figured it out very carefully, had given a lot of time and thought to the proposition while he was part-time jailor. Arrest the kids who got out of line, and either they or their parents would have to cough up stiff fines. Like last Easter, Tad and his deputies had made 148 arrests. Old Judge Calhoon, a special friend and long time patron of Tad's beer joint, squeezed a total of $18,500 out of them. By law, half of it went to the Sheriff, and half to the court. The judge returned one half of his fifty percent to Tad's deputies. Not bad for a week's work. A man needed only three vacations a year to get along with that kind of money coming...
Of course, there were certain difficulties, the main one being the State Attorney General's Office who kept nosing around investigating complaints of "police brutality." That was a lot of hog wash. Everyone knew that all you had to do was put a pair of handcuffs on a punk and right away hell scream "police brutality," and some left-wing do-gooder will not only believe the statement, but swear to it under oath. Like last year. The kids had started throwing beer bottles at his men. It was, pure and simple, a riot-and you had to be firm with rioters. So... sixteen of the kids wound up in the hospital, under police guard, and all were charged with felonious assault upon a police officer. That whole deal still rankled Peabody because the State Attorney General's Office had stepped in and gotten the charges dismissed. The punks weren't even fined! That's when he had appointed Stan Rogers his training officer, and Stan had taught them all how to work over a punk without sending him to the hospital, and how to use the billy club without breaking bones, and where to apply the electric cattle prod in order to have a little fun.
The Sheriff had long since decided that the Attorney General's Office couldn't do anything to him; they were just an aggravation, like the sand fleas further down the beach, or like the F.B.I. who were always wanting copies of this and copies of that-let them do their own damned paper work! The only time he had come close to getting in difficulty had been with that hippie girl, Jolene, five or six months ago. About eighteen obviously a runaway and user of drugs, she had been hitchhiking south. Tad had taken one look at the full rounded lips on her hot little mouth and at the tits plainly visible without a bra under her blue men's work shirt, and had promptly taken her to jail. He kept her locked up for forty days, while he and Stan, and occasionally a visiting friend or two had a party every afternoon or evening with her. She might not have known much about fucking or cocksucking when she came to town, but when she left she was a real expert. Christ, he thought, she's still be locked up if the God-damned Attorney General's Office and their nose-talking New York trained lawyer-investigator hadn't wanted to know why the girl had not been booked or charged with any crime. The investigator had gone ranting out of his office threatening all sorts of dire things', including a federal Grand Jury Indictment. Five minutes later, Stan was on his way to Tampa with the girl. There, after Deputy Rogers had fucked her silly for one last time, he gave her a sack full of the pep pills she was hooked on, fifty bucks traveling money, and saw to it that she boarded a plane bound for New Orleans.
That was one thing, Tad thought as he leaned back in his swivel chair and adjusted his boots more comfortably on the desk, you could always count on Stan. He didn't know how he had gotten along without him. God! They had really had some fine old parties in that special motel room of his. Thinking about it now, Tad could feel the anticipation building up in his groin. He almost wished he hadn't planned this sweep of the beach for tonight, he could use a little strange young stuff. But even Stan had suggested giving the girls a chance to settle in, and a chance for Stan to catch them at something... a boy in the room, drinking beer, anything like that. He snorted as he remembered Stan's description of the blonde girl. She couldn't possibly be that good looking or well built!
He frowned as his meditations were interrupted by the sound of shouting and scuffling outside his office. The door crashed open and Harvey Roberts, one of his deputies, pulled a struggling youth into the room. Harvey's shirt was ripped at the shoulder, the boy wore only a swim suit and was barefooted.
"Keep your fucking pig's hands off me, pig," the boy screamed.
Harvey looked out into the street, closed the door with his foot, then threw the frail youth clear across the room where he bounced against the wall, fell groggily to the floor, and began crying.
Tad shook his head sadly and rose from his chair. He hitched up his gun belt, walked over to the youth, and looked down at the angrily sobbing boy. "Son," he said in his kindest voice, "you mustn't talk like that to one of my men. Didn't your parents teach you better manners."
"He's nothing but a fucking pig," the boy screamed defiantly, "a pig."
Without warning, the Sheriff drew back his foot and kicked the boy in the testicles as hard as he could. The youth doubled up, screaming in agony, and began writhing on the floor. "Say it again son. Go ahead, prove to us how brave you are. Your nuts are gonna give out before my boot does, though. So say it if you want to."
His face contorted in agony, the boy gasped once more, "Pig!"
This time the boot hit the kidney area, and the youth straightened up as though he had received a severe electric jolt. The second he straightened, the Sheriff's boot crunched into the testicles again. The figure simply moaned, toppled over, unconscious.
Harvey Roberts grinned at the Sheriff. "You did that real neat, Tad. Think you hurt him?"
"Naw. He'll have sore nuts for a week or two, piss a little blood, and think he's dying. That's the trouble, you know, kids ought to learn to behave better. Now here we were having a little chat with the boy, trying to calm him down, when he tries to break away... and runs right into the desk-the edge of that desk there hit him in the nuts. You saw it. I saw it. But, you know how kids are today, though, hell probably lie about it and try to cause trouble for us... claim we hit him or something."
Harvey nodded his head. "He acted kinda crazy. Like he was high on drugs or something. Ran right into that desk." He grinned, then laughed aloud as he threw the boy's wallet on the desk. "Where do you want him?"
"Back with the other shitheads. Hell probably start puking when he wakes up and feels his nuts. Let him puke in the cage with the rest of the punks."
Harvey picked up the youth like a sack of potatoes and flung him over his shoulder. He was at the door when the Sheriff said, "Say, what'd this kid do anyway?"
"Caught a girl sucking his cock on the beach. Down near the water-across from Paradise."
"Yeh? What'd the girl look like? Where is she?"
"She was being dog fucked by another boy. They got away when this one tackled me."
"God... damn." The Sheriff said angrily. "Was she young? Pretty?"
"Far as I could tell with her lips pooched out like that-about fourteen, fifteen. Real nice ass and good tits."
"Recognize her if you saw her again?" It was asked hopefully. Harvey shook his head. " 'Fraid not, Tad."
"God... damnit!" He jerked his head toward the cell block, then went back to his desk where he opened the boy's wallet and began laboriously writing the name and address on the booking card. As he wrote, he slowly pronounced each word, "Peter Watson... one, four, nine, two, two, Mission Road... "
CHAPTER FIVE
It was after two a.m. when Sharon knocked on the motel room door. Mary Anne had not been able to sleep yet. Half-frightened at being alone and still feeling remnants of the terrible unrequited hunger in her loins, sleep was impossible. The soft tap startled her into complete wakefulness, and she sat bolt upright in bed. It wasn't until she heard Sharon's voice that she relaxed.
As soon as the chain was removed, Sharon floated into the room. She reeked of marijuana, but more than that, there was the smell, the placid look of sex about her.
Sharon looked around the room. "Where's Bill?" She began unfastening her bra and her perfect little tits fell out into the open.
Mary Anne shook her head. "He left me at nine thirty."
"You're kidding." Sharon's disbelief was written on her face. "Why, I was sure that you and he would have... ah... " She paused unable to formulate her thoughts, then shrugged and grinned. She removed her bikini bottom, and as soon as she did, a trickle of George's latest deposit of semen began to ooze down her leg.
Mary Anne let her have it with both barrels. "I think I'd better take a bus home tomorrow."
"What? No, you can't! It'll ruin everything!" The last was a wail of distress.
"I'm sorry. But I don't want to stay here any longer." Mary Anne turned on her side, embarrassed and not wanting to stare at the other girl's nudity and especially not at that evidence that someone had cum inside her.
Sharon's eyes narrowed as she fought to clear her mind of the marijuana residue. "Did anything happen between you and Bill?"... There was no answer. It was only then that Sharon seemed to become aware of George's cum running down her leg. "I'll be back in just a sec," she said. "Don't go to sleep yet. Please!" She disappeared, and a moment later the sound of running water in the shower was heard.
Mary Anne changed her mind about what she was going to do at least three times while Sharon was in the shower. She really hadn't made a decision to go home yet, and-if the truth were known-she didn't want to go home. She wanted to stay here, to lie out in the sun all day, and at night? At night? She put it into words for about the tenth time to herself, "I want Bill to make love to me."
Sharon came out vigorously drying herself with a big towel. She sat down nude on Mary Anne's bed, and reached out and turned the younger girl over on her back so she could watch her face while they talked. "Okay, spill it," she said. "I know something happened."
In spite of all her resolve, Mary Anne felt tears welling up in her eyes. Because she thought that perhaps she, herself, was at fault in the matter, she was hesitant to tell anything at all about what had occurred on the beach. Still, though she knew she had to have advice... and good advice demanded that the truth be told, so the words came bubbling out-reluctantly at first, then in a torrent of unhappiness and shame. She told everything-what she had done, what Bill had done-and what they had witnessed between two boys and the girl!
Her voice was almost a cry of anguish when she concluded, "... and I felt his penis jerking and then he... came... and it was over without anything happening. We got dressed and came home."
Sharon shook her head in amazement. "And you didn't invite him in?"
"No, why should...
Feeling very maternal, Sharon reached down and lifted Mary Anne's chin. "If you had, something would have happened. I guarantee it."
"But he had already cum."
"So?"
"That ended it. He got smaller and when he put on his swim trunks, it was a limp, dangling little thing."
Sharon tried to stifle the laugh, but it still snorted out of her. That was a mistake because Mary Anne immediately began to withdraw into her earlier shell of despair. Quickly then, Sharon said, "The only trouble is... that... you-are both virgins. George was right. Bill's just got to be a virgin. When a boy does it for the first time, he gets so excited sometimes that he's even lucky to get it into a girl's vagina before he cums. And lying there, watching that other girl and the two boys, that would have been exciting enough for any male to get carried away and lose control." She paused for a second, then continued. "Your mistake was in thinking he couldn't get another erection. He could have right there on the beach with a little encouragement... or maybe he didn't need any encouragement. Maybe all he needed was another chance." She couldn't keep the smug look off her face, although she did make an effort. "Do you know how many times George came tonight?"
Wide-eyed, and a little embarrassed, Mary Anne shook her head from side to side.
"Would you believe eight? And would you believe that the last time, he made me cum for almost ten minutes before I passed out. How's that grab you?"
Mary Anne struggled to put the accusation into words that wouldn't offend the other girl, but finally was forced to stammer out, "But... you and George... were smoking... pot."
"So? So what? That doesn't have anything to do with erections. With some people-like me and George-grass just sort of increases the pleasure. And, frankly, darling, I really don't need to increase sexual pleasure... it's great just as it is. Sometimes, though, like this week... I like a little change."
"Well, then, what shall I do?"
"That's a girl. First act cool tomorrow-just like nothing had happened. Let him oil your back. If your bra straps are unfastened, that'll drive him further up the wall, and that poor son of a bitch will have to fight to keep from oiling your front side. If you feel like moaning when he oils you, then moan, baby, moan. Let him know you like his hands. If you're lying next to him, all sweaty and oily, and your face is close to his and he wants to kiss you on the beach... let him. Let the steam build up again. Then after dinner, invite him in here for a beer. I swear you won't have to do another thing."
"But what about you?"
This was exactly the opening Sharon had been waiting for ever since their arrival at Pistola Beach. It was perfect timing. "Don't worry about me. George and I will get along. I'll spend the whole night in George's room."
Mary Anne drew back. "Oh, no. That would be wrong. I mean... well, it's not right."
Sharon didn't accept the protest. She put it to the younger girl succinctly, "Look. The beach is no place to be caught fucking. I've heard a few stories about the cops in this town-about what happened, especially to the girls, after they caught kids balling on the beach. No... you come back to the room with Bill and put a chain on the door. You won't be bothered that way... not by me, anyway."
"Sharon, I'm scared. And, really, I don't think I could stand having him touch me tomorrow all day. I mean... I don't think my body could stand it."
The older girl stared down at the younger one. Beneath Mary Anne's very thin, transparent nylon pajama top, her nipples stood completely erect. Sharon knew all too well the heat that still burned in the girl's body. After being built up the way she had been on the beach, it was a wonder Mary Anne wasn't clawing the paper off the walls. The younger girl was only fifteen, that was true, but she had a woman's body with a woman's needs.
The little brunette threw her towel over onto the other bed, then bent down and buried her hands in the pillow on each side of Mary Anne's blonde head. "I can tell you're suffering right now," she said softly. "Would it help if I relieved you?"
Mary Anne made no pretense of misunderstanding what was being proposed. "No," she said. "Thank you... but no."
Sharon nodded. Her instincts told her that Mary Anne was lying, but this was something she really didn't feel should be forced... and besides, she was bone weary from George's energetic reaming of her pussy during the last seven hours. "All right. Good night." She got up, slipped between the covers, and hit the lamp switch. The room was plunged into darkness; Sharon was asleep within two minutes.
Mary Anne, however, lay there tense and disturbed by the knowledge that she actually had wanted "relief and would have welcomed it from Sharon. Her last waking thought, some one half-hour before a blood red sun arose over Pistola Beach, was a question that had all the overtones of an accusation; My God. What's happening to me?
CHAPTER SIX
At eight-thirty in the morning, Sheriff Tad Peabody and Stan Rogers were carefully going over the booking information prior to Judge Calhoon's convening of court. The Judge wanted to go fishing before it got too hot, so court had been moved up to nine o'clock. It was estimated that the 34 cases on the docket would take about 45 minutes to an hour to conclude.
"What about this one here? Peter Watson?" Stan asked, tapping an envelope.
"Oh, that's the smart-ass. I had Harve check out the place where the kid is staying; he came down in a pretty fancy car, got pretty fancy clothes. Think we ought to get his parents down here, you know, maybe fine him seven hundred dollars or so for assault on a police officer and outraging public decency. They pay the fine, we agree to drop the charge of sex perversion providing they agree to get psychiatric care for the kid. That sound o.k.?"
Rogers nodded. He passed on to the last envelope, then snickered and held it up. The Sheriff guffawed too, and scratched the back of his sunburned red neck. "I didn't really know how to handle that one. When old Judge Calhoon hears that boy was pissing on the park statue of his grandfather, General Calhoon, anything liable to happen. It's a good thing we don't have a firing squad or that poor kid would be done for. For sure the Judge's gonna lock him up... and we don't want to waste cells on real prisoners."
Rogers said, "Why don't we get him in here, bawl shit out of him, and let him go? He's nineteen-a paying guest at my place. He nosed through the boy's wallet. Don't look like he's got enough money to pay a fine and my bill, too."
"Wal... now. Seeing as how you're being so good to me by inviting me to that little party at your place tonight, I figger I ought to repay the favor. I'll release him in your custody." He looked as if he had just had an unpleasant afterthought, "The party's still on, ain't it?"
Rogers wet his lips. "You bet it is! I got a photograph-I just seen the negative a few minutes ago-that you won't believe. That little blonde girl has got to be the sexiest broad we ever had checked in that room. She is so hot for a little cock, that she was in there-by herself-beating her meat just 'fore I came on duty last night."
"No!"
"Truth. So help me." Rogers held up his right band in solemn oath.
The Sheriff swallowed and the sound of his dry spittle sliding down his throat could be heard across the room. "Son of a bitch! I can hardly wait. What time you think's a good time?"
"You making another sweep tonight?"
"Well... ," the Sheriff was reluctant to let an opportunity escape to get more cash in the coffers, but at the same time a red-pepper hot 18 year-old blonde didn't come along every day. "Tell you what. We have our party. The boys can make the sweep."
Rogers was thoughtful for a moment. Just as the Sheriff didn't want to lose the money, Stan was reluctant to pass up opportunity to get out there and crack a few smart-ass heads. It was good exercise; a man didn't get a chance to do that except for two-three weeks out of the year. Still, though, when he. thought of the young blonde pussy in Room 104, her legs splayed, gasping and moaning in the throes of her own self-induced orgasm, he knew he was going to let the head-cracking go by the board tonight in order to fuck the blonde.
Ten minutes later, in the company of four other shotgun armed deputies, Stan and Tad herded the night's collection of prisoners out of the cells. One of the boys, a youth about 19, asked the Sheriff. "What about him?" he nodded toward the figure of Peter Watson, huddled in the corner. "He needs a doctor bad."
"Naw... there ain't nothing wrong with him.
Just got sore nuts, that's all. Had a girl giving him a blow job on the beach, then tries to escape, runs right into the outer office table-bangs his nuts against the edge."
"That isn't the way he told it," a boy about 17 said.
"What did you say, son?" the Sheriff asked ominously. "You calling me a liar?"
"No... no, sir." The kid's voice was a high-pitched squeak of fear.
"Well, then," the Sheriff said expansively, "what say we all take a nice little walk across the street to the court house?"
At nine-thirty, alone in the cell, a perspiration-drenched, white-faced Peter Watson moaned once, grabbed his stomach, and staggered over to the sink where he vomited a copious amount of blood. When the attack was over, he had to slide against the wall because walking was out of the question. After he got to the comer again, he simply let go of the wall and slid down until he was just a huddled figure in the shadowy corner of the already hot cell.
After leaving Mary Anne's room, Bill had waited patiently for the DO NOT DISTURB sign to be taken off the door. Finally, near midnight, he went to sleep on the chaise lounge alongside the swimming pool. It was dawn when he awoke and saw the sign was gone. Stiffly, he walked across the grass and tried the door; it was unlocked. Inside, George slept the peaceful sleep of the innocent, the stoned, and the sated. In spite of the air-conditioning, marijuana fumes were strong enough to make Bill feel almost as though he, himself, was high.
Unhappy with the entire situation, Bill lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. A moment later, he felt cold and climbed under the covers. He was asleep almost immediately. When he woke up, around noon, George was gone.
He lay there, reluctant to get up, not really wanting to go out on the beach with the other kids... especially not wanting to face Mary Anne. As he thought of her writhing body next to his on the sand and remembered her moans as his prick slid along her excitedly dripping young cunt, his cock immediately responded. He put his hand down, grasped his own hard-on, yanked his cock viciously a couple of times as though he were punishing it. He closed his eyes, fighting the desire to masturbate-feeling, wanting the need of relief. "God," he groaned aloud, "I came so close. And she wanted it so badly. How am I ever going to face her again?" For a split second he even thought about packing and hitch-hiking home. Even as the thought came to him, he dismissed it as being cowardice... and besides, all he needed was just one more chance with Mary Anne.
So it was, about an hour later, that Bill found himself on the beach looking for the blonde girl. He was already feeling foolish because he had no jock strap and the bold outline of his penis, even in its limp state, was clearly evident. Then he saw her, lying by herself, with two rumpled empty towels next to her. He carried his own towel awkwardly in front of him as he approached the girl. Mary Anne looked up just then. Her face flushed in embarrassment, matching his own beet red features.
"Hi." She forced herself to sound nonchalant.
"Hi. May I... sit down here?"
She managed to dimple. "It's a public beach." Then to soften any possible misinterpretation, she patted the space next to her. "Besides, you're just in time. I can't oil my back by myself, and Sharon's gone to get lunch with George." She lifted her shoulders slightly, then looked as if she had just remembered that her bra straps were unmapped. In that split second, Bill saw her breasts-white, full, luscious... bare.
He sat down in a hurry.
Mary Anne was pleased with the way things had gone. Sharon had called it, "setting him up," and Mary Anne knew that before the day was over, Bill probably would be pretty excited. She moaned as she felt his hands rubbing her back. As his greasy palms slid along the back of her rib cage, she felt the first undeniable tinglings of excitement herself, for his fingers had gone so low once on her rib cage that they had come within an inch or two of touching her nipple buried in the towel.
And so the day went. Sharon and George returned and both promptly went to sleep in the sun. Mary Anne and Bill went swimming-running and laughing across the sand to dive into the warm waters and then surface like two playful porpoises. Without warning, as an outgoing wave tugged against their legs, Bill grabbed her and French-kissed her. Another wave came in, causing the water to rise to their chests. Against her abdomen, she felt his penis becoming erect. She gave one teasing little pelvic jerk against it, then reached down and boldly caressed his prick for just a second, feeling it really coming alive in her hand. Then, giggling, she ran for shore. Bill, for some reason, did not follow her.
By the time the sun finally went down, and George and Sharon disappeared again; Bill had had so many erections that his balls ached with a pain he had never before experienced. It was as though Mary Anne was deliberately trying to drive him out of his mind. Twice he had tried to apologize for what had happened the previous evening, but each time she cut him off with a curt, "Don't talk about it; it's not important."
Actually, though, Mary Anne herself had long since become impatient with the game. About four, when Bill oiled her back for the last time, his hands had been far bolder than ever before. Without being asked, he oiled the back of her thighs, and his fingers actually slid into the hot moist cuntal cleft once or twice, causing jolts of pure ecstatic pleasure to race throughout her entire body. Sharon had advised her not to let Bill come to the room before dark, just in case the day clerk or the owner got wise to what was going on. Still, though, the hours seemed to drag on interminably... and Mary Anne breathed a sigh of relief when full darkness finally fell.
Beside her, Bill put his arm over her shoulders and kissed her neck. When she offered no resistance, he began kissing her shoulders and face. A moment later, his hand began a furtive little movement at her bra strap. She sat up quickly and saw the disappointment etched on his face. Her heart was pounding wildly for now she knew the irreversible moment was at hand.
"Bill," she said, softly. "I'm thirsty. Why don't you get us some beer."
He blinked, then said good-naturedly, "Okay."
She took a deep sigh. "And, Bill. Why don't... you... bring it to my room in about ten minutes? I want to take a shower. We can drink it there."
There was no mistaking what the invitation implied. A sudden bubbling up of happiness and excitement swept over him. Everything was going to be great, he thought. Just everything! A moment later, after giving a Confederate war whoop of exaltation, he was trotting across the beach toward the place that sold the beer.
Mary Anne didn't smile at his eagerness. She couldn't smile at all; she was too frightened by what she felt, by the sudden dryness of her throat, by the pound-pound-pounding of the blood that began engorging the lips of the virginal little cunt up between her thighs and forced out even more viscous lubricant from her already excitedly drenched pussy. She picked up her towel, portable radio, and cosmetics, and began walking slowly over toward the motel... wondering if she really were doing the right thing.
Down the beach, the amplified music came from the rock band and a shower of flaming embers shot high into the night sky as another driftwood log was tossed on the fire. From the sound of it, she thought, the kids were getting an early start.
Stan, who had been watching impatiently for almost an hour, saw Mary Anne coming across the highway and under the motel's portico overhang. Flashing red and yellow neon lights made her skin look incredibly supple, and the shadows deepened the cleft between her upthrust breasts and ripe little teenage buttocks. He felt once again for the half dozen photographs he had especially selected for her inspection, then stuck a plug in the switchboard and called the Sheriff. "Tad? Stan. Party's about to begin... that is if you still want to come." He laughed as the outraged bellow came over the fine, then listened and said, "Fine. Just fine. See you in fifteen minutes." Then he turned to the night clerk and growled, "Sheriff and I are going to play a little gin rummy. Don't want to be interrupted for any reason. Don't ring the telephone and don't try to get in my upstairs office, 'cause the door's gonna be locked. Understand?"
The night clerk, a white-haired, elderly black man who was a retired teacher in a negro school and who worked seven nights a week at the Paradise to supplement his $80.00 a month pension, nodded subserviently. Rogers stared at him for a moment, trying to find some disrespect in the man's attitude, but-as usual-he couldn't find anything wrong with the clerk's demeanor. Maybe, he thought for the hundredth time, it's because he's an educated nigger, never could stand them.
The Sheriff was better than his word, he was so anxious to get the party going that he was there within ten minutes. Stan led him into his own quarters, then carefully locked and chained the door behind them.
"What say about a drink, Tad?"
"Oh, a little bourbon and branch water might help loosen my vocal chords." He threw his hat toward a chair, then sat down on the couch. "Looks like it's getting ready to rain a bit later. Hope it gets here "bout midnight, clear those hell raising kids off the beach."
Stan poured about three fingers of liquor into two glasses, dropped a couple of ice-cubes into each, and filled them to the top with water. He touched glasses with the Sheriff, grinned, then tossed the photographs into Tad's lap.
The Sheriff was right in the middle of swallowing when he spotted the top one of Mary Anne-rounded young buttocks a foot off the mattress, leg and thigh and belly muscles straining like velvet covered cables, and fingers of both hands pulling apart her cuntal lips like someone trying to pry apart the mouth of a fish in order to withdraw a fishhook. He began choking and coughing, and bourbon ran out of his mouth and nose. "God damn!" he wheezed, his eyes watering as he attempted to get his breath back. "God damn! Just look at that."
Stan grinned. "Didn't I tell you that was prime piece of meat. You know, I gotta hunch I'm gonna enjoy fucking that more than anything I've fucked in years."
"Where is she?" Tad demanded, standing up and putting his drink down on the table. "Lead me to her." He was practically snorting and there was a wild look about his watery eyes.
"Come on," Stan said proudly. "Let's go take a peek at the meat." The Sheriff started to follow him docilely into the study, but then reached back and his big hand closed around the neck of the bourbon bottle. He tilted it up and lowered the level of the bottle by at least two inches. When he walked up the seven stairs into Stan's loft-like study, he still carried the bottle along with him.
Down in the other room, Mary Anne had just completed her shower and was toweling herself dry when she heard a soft knock on the front door. She had asked Bill to give her ten minutes, but the time must have moved like molasses for the poor boy, she thought. It hadn't gone any too rapidly for her either.
"Just a second," she called. She stood there, wondering what to put on. Then, her mind really unable to function properly, she merely wrapped the huge towel like a sarong around her body and went to the door. "Bill?" she asked before opening.
It's me," he replied. Bill carried two six-packs of beer under his arm. He almost dropped them when he saw what she was wearing.
It was an awkward moment for them both. He looked around for a place to put the beer, and Mary Anne indicated with her head that he should place it on the dresser. A part of her laughed at the whole deal. His twelve bottles of beer made a total of twenty four, for when Mary Anne had come into the room from the beach, there had been two ice buckets loaded with beer and a note from Sharon which said simply, "For your honeymoon." That beer was in the bathroom, the note had been flushed rapidly down the toilet.
Upstairs, Stan pulled the curtain overlooking the two-way mirror window just in time to see Bill putting the beer on the dresser.
"God damnit," the Sheriff growled angrily, "Why didn't you tell me she had a boy with her?"
"Shit, she didn't have one five minutes ago when she stripped naked as a jay bird and got into the shower."
"Well, what you gonna do?"
Stan, watching the couple, suddenly took a deep breath and grinned nastily at the Sheriff. "I think for this one I'm going to use my Polaroid camera so we can confront them immediately with the evidence."
"Hell, I ain't taking no seconds after some punk college kid."
"Won't be necessary. You wouldn't mind, of course, if he just sort of turned her furnace up a little bit higher... now would you?"
Tad scratched his stomach and grimaced, "Well... as long as it don't take too long. I got a powerful itch that only that little bitch can scratch."
Stan readied the camera. "If she's as hot as I think she is, there ain't gonna be much monkeying around."
There wasn't! Bill merely turned from the dresser and took two steps toward Mary Anne. The two young people stood looking at each other for only a few seconds before their lips were bruisingly joined.
Mary Anne felt his tongue, like a key to a lock, being forced into her mouth; she was helpless against the onslaught, and, indeed, had no desire to fight him. She moaned continuously as his hands began moving down her back to cup her buttocks and squeeze the succulent globes of flesh beneath the rough material of the towel. Without volition, she found her pelvis pressing hungrily against his abdomen and felt the turgid enlarging of his penis beneath his swimming trunks. Then Bill was moving her backwards toward the bed. Mary Anne offered only a split-second token resistance before she let herself be led. Abruptly she felt the mattress pressing against the back of her knees. She stopped then-refusing to go further for the moment.
Bill immediately began kissing her with even more ardour and his hands moved surely up her back to the point where the end of the towel was tucked in between her shoulder blades. One tug and the towel loosened. It fell forward, baring her breasts, falling to her navel where it was held captive by their bodies.
Mary Anne groaned as she felt the cool air hit her lust fevered breasts. Now Bill began awkwardly massaging the right one; when he realized he could not kiss her properly and play with her firmly rounded little titties at the same time, he moved back slightly and the towel, suddenly freed, dropped to the floor where it lay in a crumpled heap across their ankles and feet.
The girl felt wave after wave of ecstatic pleasure flood through her body as the boy bent his head forward and took one nipple gently between his tongue-moistened lips. He began a little sucking motion on the nipple alone. Mary Anne tentatively, almost shyly, put both hands up to cup his head at her breast. Her eyes were flickering in delicious torment.
And upstairs, Stan Rogers took his second photograph at this precise moment.
Bill left her breast and began raining kisses all over her shoulders. He went to the other tit, nursed it for a moment, then bent his knees slightly and began kissing her abdomen.
"No... Bill... no," Mary Anne said, not really sure exactly why she was stopping him.
He came back to her mouth then, almost brutally, and his hunger for her was so evident that Mary Anne felt as though someone was poking her in the navel with a hoe handle. She pushed him away.
"What's... what's wrong?" Bill blurted.
Mary Anne was breathing rapidly. "Nothing, darling." She surprised herself by her boldness, "I'm going to turn down the bed... take off your suit."
Quickly, not really wanting to watch him undress, she turned around and pulled back the bedspread and sheets. Then she slipped between the sheets and brought them up to just below her breasts.
Bill stepped out of his swim trunks, kicked them across the room and sat down beside her. With a low groan of delight, he bent forward and kissed her neck; his hot flickering tongue moved across her shoulders from right to left, then began tracing a hot pattern of desire to her breasts again.
The fires in her vagina were racing completely out of control now. Mary Anne knew, without touching herself down there under the cover, that she was already spotting the sheets with the hot viscosity oozing from between her throbbing cuntal lips. She wanted him inside her-wanted him there now! She wanted to be hurt by him, if it took pain to relieve the terrible hunger devastating her virginal loins. Almost without thinking about it, she reached out her hand and fumbled against his leg until she found his penis-hard, erect, hot, throbbing, and jerking as though it were some tethered wild bronco.
With the first touch of her hand there, Bill groaned, "Oh, God!" It was an inarticulate phrase that was barely intelligible; and the words couldn't be defined at all when he repeated them a moment later as Mary Anne's fingers enclosed his cock and began a slow gentle up and down stroking movement.
She marveled at the obvious underlying power of the thing she held in her hand. It was a contradiction, she thought; hard and rigid, yet soft and warm. It took her less than twenty seconds to overcome the mental block that some women are never able to overcome... for she abruptly realized that this "thing" she held in her hand was as much a part of him as his lips or his eyes or his ears. It wasn't something alien, something frightening; it was him! And her errant mind, lost in the fabulous sensations he was bringing to her awakening body, flashed back to the beach scene last night where the girl had paid homage to the boy's penis by kissing it and sucking on...
Bill almost came right then and there when Mary Anne suddenly shifted her head from the pillow and began softly kissing his thigh. The direction of her movement was unmistakable. He simply stopped everything he was doing to her in order to let the tidal wave of sensations wash over him. When her hot uncertain lips first touched the pulsating head of his yearning cock, he wanted to scream out in exaltation. A moment later, that throbbing knob of pure sensation was lodged inside the soft warm oval of her eager, wet mouth.
"Ahhhhh," he moaned almost in delirium, as her head slowly began moving up and down on the hardened young shaft.
Mary Anne could taste him-could taste the sea, his perspiration, and the indefinable elixir of something wildly, wickedly exciting. It was as though she were suddenly suckling at the fountain head of the universe.
Upstairs, with the Sheriff breathing so hard that his breath was beginning to fog the window, Stan Rogers took his last photograph and pulled the Polaroid tab. "That one," he said proudly, "should be a beaut. I wish to Christ that sheet wasn't covering her snatch." Then he peeled the Polaroid film apart and grinned nastily. "Just look at that, Tad... wooeeee!" Stan showed the photo to the Sheriff who was standing at the window, a stunned look on his perspiring face as he watched Mary Anne suddenly get the hang of things and begin to suck and move her mouth at the same time. Tad Peabody hitched his gun belt up, took a deep breath, squared his hat on his head, and said, "I don't want to see no more. Let's go!" Then they went downstairs, where Stan used his master key to unfasten the double-locked doors between the two rooms.
Mary Anne was so lost in a sexual exhilaration that her brain actually had to short circuit all other sensations to make her realize that someone was in the room with them, and even then she didn't believe it. Bill, of course, was incapable of sensing anything except those wonderfully warm and soft lips tugging and pulling at the head and base of his cock. The very first indication he had that anything was wrong came with Mary Anne's suddenly stiffened body, her mouth pulling away from him and an ear-piercing scream of sheer terror.
Bill immediately spun around and started to rise, but was roughly shoved back onto the bed by Sheriff Peabody's ham-like hand. "Stay there, boy," the gruff voice ordered.
Mary Anne had felt the scream bubbling up from the furthermost regions of her terrified and uncomprehending mind as she saw two big burly men in policemen's uniforms, both with badges and guns, standing just behind Bill. They were accusing apparitions, figures from The Inquisition suddenly materialized in the locked and bolted bedroom. Instinctively, she reached for the sheet to cover her breasts.
"Lay still," the Sheriff ordered in a voice that froze her into immobility. Both men stood there, shaking their heads sadly at the evil in the room as their gazes went from nude boy to naked girl. Mary Anne once more attempted to raise the sheet.
"I said 'lay still'," Tad Peabody commanded. "Just lay there in all your rotten shame-like a common little whore."
Bill started to rise again in protest and was thrust sharply back on the mattress. "Look, you don't understand;" he began, his voice trembling, "it's not her fault...
"Well, boy, it sure ain't my fault," the Sheriff replied. "And what else would you call a woman like this? Sucking your penis... that's an act of perversion... getting you all ready for an act of illegal sexual intercourse. Breaking laws left and right."
Mary Anne, feeling a wave of shame and degradation-like a freezing black fog-sweep over her, began weeping uncontrollably. Violent shuddering sobs convulsed her body.
Bill turned to her, then helplessly back toward the Sheriff. "It's all my fault, sir. Please let her go-"
"Ain't either one of you going to go anywhere 'cept to jail. I reckon, if this girl's as young as I think she is, you'll probably go to the state penitentiary for ten years... and considering the dirty thing she was doing to you, sucking your penis and acting like a common street whore, she'll be put away as incorrigible until she's twenty one at least." Tad Peabody turned to Stan, "Ain't that right?"
Stan shook his head up and down in agreement, then asked, "You want me to take him on down to jail?"
The Sheriff acted as though he were really thinking about it for a moment, giving rise to hope in both of the young people, then said-almost as if it pained him and he were jailing his own son-"Yep! Take him along. Well book him tomorrow morning on contributing to the delinquency of a minor and participating in an act of unnatural sex."
Bill was almost in tears himself as, in all his shame and fear, he moved woodenly across the room and put on his swim trunks. Then he stood there, with less hope than a slave on an auction block, as the cold steel handcuffs-with the whirling of a rattle snake-were locked on his wrists. Stan nodded his head toward the door and put his hand on Bill's shoulder. The boy made one more effort to absolve the weeping girl. "Sir! Honestly! Believe me! This was all my idea. Let her go."
Tad Peabody gazed first at him, then at the girl. He managed to look uncertain, which wrung a pitiful "please" from Bill. Finally he pushed his hat back on his head and his forehead became corrugated in thought. "Well... I tell you. We'll think about it. If you don't start getting uppity and want to drag some smart-alecky out of town lawyer into this, and if-after talking to this little girl here-we decide that you two are cooperative and telling the truth, well... then... well think a little more about it." He jerked his head toward Stan. "Take him on down to the jail for now, though."
Mary Anne had heard the words and a wild feeling of hope was born in her breast. She really wasn't aware of the moment Stan led the handcuffed Bill from the room. She was too busy praying-praying to a God she hadn't talked to since she was eleven-asking Him to make the Sheriff let her...
But then all her hopes went out the window with the Sheriff's first comment after they were left alone in the room. "You know, course, that one way or the other, we're going to have to call your folks and get 'em down here. You do have a Momma and Poppa don't you?"
Mary Anne began weeping disconsolately again. She thought about lying, and just as though he had read her mind, the Sheriff snapped, "Now don't he to me. You hear! If you tell me even one little he, I promise that I won't try to do anything for you."
"Yes," she sobbed. "My mother and father live in Oakdale."
"Ummm-huh. And I'll bet fifty dollars they think you're someplace else right now."
Mary Anne nodded, then blurted through her sobs and tears, "Oh, please, Sheriff. Don't call them. Please! It would kill them."
Tad Peabody could hardly keep the smile of triumph off his face when he heard the pitiful plea. As he stared down at her lush ripe breasts, he decided he liked playing cat and mouse with her. He sat down on the bed, letting his holstered revolver flap onto her sheet-covered abdomen; the barrel of his gun was pressing into the soft, hair-fringed triangle of her vagina. His eyes roamed her hair, face, lips, neck, shoulders, and came to rest on her bare breasts. The aureoles were about the size of brown silver dollars and right smack-dab in the middle of each one, her goose-bumped chocolate coloured nipples still stood erect. Mary Anne flushed as she saw him looking at her nakedness. Once again she reached for the sheet, but this time her hand was caught in a grip so powerful that she winced and moaned in pain.
"You look like such a nice little girl," the Sheriff mused. "Why did you do such an awful dirty thing?' Almost at once, deep convulsive shudders of shame again began to wrack Mary Anne's body. She felt dirty! She knew now she had done something evil, unnatural. She didn't know why she had done it, only that some deep perverted wickedness hitherfore unknown to her had taken charge of her body. And so, sobbing her heart out, Mary Anne was unable to answer. She abruptly realized that the Sheriff had put his arms under her shoulders and raised her up to his chest.
"There... there," he crooned, his voice tender, paternal, as he caressed her shoulder in a fatherly manner.
Mary Anne was shocked at his actions. She could feel the sharp points of his cold badge pressing painfully against her bare breast; the metal felt as if it were digging into her skin. Her body wept, but her mind calculated. Maybe, she thought, he is going to give me a break. At that moment, all thoughts of protecting Bill had fled her consciousness... all she wanted was her own freedom... freedom to leave this place of ugliness where her own wantonness had betrayed her. She deliberately forced herself to take a deep shuddering breath.
"Now... now," Tad Peabody said, his one hand moving familiarly across and down her shoulders-exactly as Bill's had done-to come to rest at the small of her back just above the area where untanned buttocks flared out in a soft white fleshy plain. Mary Anne fought the urge to draw back in revulsion. Her skin was crawling exactly in the same way it had when her little brother had once put a snake down her back, but she knew she must not betray her true feelings, for now she was sure that the Sheriff was truly, going to take pity and let her free.
This delusion was abruptly shattered a second later when, with a demonical laugh, Tad Peabody pushed her body back on the bed and yanked down the sheet baring her entire nakedness to his lascivious gaze. He continued to chortle, sadistically, as Mary Anne made pitiful little efforts to cover her vaginal area with her bare hands. When she turned over on her stomach, he merely reached out one hand-with middle finger extended-and dug it into the clefts of her buttocks, fishing and worming for her unprotected little anus.
"Aaaaghh, don't," Mary Anne screamed in fright and anger.
"Turn over and shut up." His harsh, brutal voice was like a barbed wire whip, and she groaned pitifully as his fingernails dug cruelly into the soft flesh on her shoulders. He pulled her over again so that she lay face up, weeping. "Now you just shut up or go to jail-naked-with the rest of the whores."
"Please... "
"I... said... shut... up! And I mean it." He grabbed the long blonde hair close to her head and twisted her face toward him. "Now you listen to me... bitch. You and me, we're going to take up right where you and your boy friend left off. You were sucking his cock... , you're gonna suck mine. Then we're going to fuck. After all, that's, what you're in Pistola Beach for, to be fucked. So you might as well get fucked by a man instead of a boy."
"Oh, God... no... please." Her eyes were wide with terror and shame as she pled once more. This had to be some nightmare from which she could shortly awaken.
Tad Peabody unfastened his gun belt and almost reverently laid the holster over the back of the chair. Quickly, he stripped his short sleeved uniform shirt to reveal bristly black hair flowing across his massive chest. His upper arms looked like small telephone poles, and his heavily muscled shoulders seemed too broad to go through a normal-sized door. From that point on, however, his body was less impressive. A beer belly hung like a keg out in front of him, and when he dropped his uniform trousers, his spindly white, hairless legs-under the belly-seemed almost ludicrously thin and incapable of supporting his bulk.
The one thing that stood out-really stood out-was the massive, uncircumcised penis which would have looked more at home on a horse!
Mary Anne stared in uncomprehending horror as the Sheriff undressed all the way down to his socks. It was not until he walked up close to the bed and slowly, tauntingly, pulled the foreskin back to reveal the huge purplish head of his prick that Mary Anne was galvanized into action. She didn't care what happened to her. She must escape! Run... get out of this evil place! No matter if she had to go to San Francisco or New York and live in a hippie commune... anything would be better than permitting this monster to violate her body, make mockery out of the act of love. As the full impact of her situation suddenly hit her, she leapt from the bed and ran to the door. She struggled with it, using all of her strength in an effort to wrench it open to freedom, but to no avail! She was trapped.
Behind her, she heard the brutal laugh again from the Sheriff.
She took a deep trembling breath and screamed at the top of her lungs.
Tad Peabody abruptly stopped laughing and lunged across the room, his open hand swinging against her cheek. The force of the blow threw her sideways and she slumped against the door, crying.
"It ain't gonna do you no good to scream, bitch," he snarled. "Besides, this room is soundproofed." He studied her for a moment to make sure she wasn't about to attempt another dash for freedom, then grinning sadistically he went to the bedside table and brought back a manila envelope addressed to Mary Anne's parents. He slapped her breasts several times with it, then made her take it. The envelope felt surprisingly heavy in her hands.
"Open it," he said. When she made no effort to do as he ordered, his voice snapped, "I said 'open it', you fucking little slut".
Weeping, with fingers trembling so violently that she had difficulty in unfastening the clasp, Mary Anne did as she was instructed. The top photo didn't really make an impression on her at r first. Then she gasped in dismay and the room began going around in circles as her brain finally registered that this was a picture of her... with Bill's penis in her mouth. As stunned as she was, a part of her more rational mind evaluated the pictorial scene. There were her lips locked on his virile young rod, and she undoubtedly had a greedy mouth, for it seemed to be completely devouring the portion locked up inside. Her cheeks were grotesquely indented as she sucked. But the most monstrous thing about the whole picture was the wanton expression of unbridled lewdness on her cock impaled young face. She was obviously enjoying this perverted act as she had enjoyed nothing before.
Tad Peabody watched as the full implications of the first photograph registered on the girl. Quickly he snatched them from her, then shuffled through the pictures until he found the one of Mary Anne masturbating and in the throes of a self-induced orgasm. He thrust it toward her and began chuckling lewdly as her shoulders slumped in degradation and utter defeat.
The tears ran down her cheeks and drip-drip-dropped to her bare breasts. Lifeless hands dropped the damning photographs to the rug where, as though decreed by some cruel fate, the pictures all lay face up so that the entire world could see her naked wantonness.
Tad Peabody enjoyed watching the expressions of fear, disgust, and shame moving like dark clouds across her face. With a lewd grin on his lips, he resumed stroking the thick uncircumcised foreskin back and forth over the mushroom shaped head of his waiting penis.
"You'all like this here?" he asked, his little eyes suddenly hard and mean looking, demanding an answer and thoroughly relishing the torment he was inflicting on the young, helplessly cornered female.
When Mary Anne didn't reply, he took two steps toward her and let his mammoth throbbing cock's head-already oozing a drop of cloudy cream from the glans-touch her upper thigh. The searing contact caused the frightened girl to draw back against the wall, huddling in silent lonely terror like a bird before the approach of a snake.
"Why, there's no comparing a real man's prick to that dinky little old thing of your boy friend," he continued, watching the distress wreak havoc on her face. He could tell that it was finally registering with her that she was completely and utterly at his mercy, that there was no escape and would be no freedom until she had done what he commanded.
Still, though, through the freezing fog of fear, one small light of hope burned dimly in Mary Anne's mind. She tried to speak, but no words could force themselves past that tight, painful ball of terror in her throat. As though they were weighed down with lead weights, her eyes dropped to the hard fleshy instrument he held in the palm of his hand. It was far thicker than Bill's, much longer as well. In spite of the terror, her mind wondered how any woman could be expected to take such a thing up inside of her.
Tad had seen her eyes drop to his cock. He sensed what she was thinking; he knew he was built like a stallion and his sadistic tendencies were set aflame by the fear he saw growing in her eyes. His own gaze dropped to the sparse young triangle of golden pubic hair that grew like wild mustard weed at the base of her soft white little belly. His eyes traveled down even further, to her firm tanned thighs looking brown in contrast to the alabaster whiteness of her supple buttocks. Suddenly he no longer felt like toying with her.
Slowly, his face a mask of grim determination, he stalked toward her.
"Go... go away," Mary Anne stuttered, knowing instinctively that he was going to rape her helpless body no matter how much she pleaded with him. There was nothing she could do against his strength; no escape was possible for he stood like a demon between her and the doorway to freedom now. She was alone-more alone than she had ever been before in her life... alone, defenseless, and completely at his mercy, and she knew with a sure instinctive knowledge that the word "mercy" was completely alien to him, something he neither believed in nor understood.
Tad chuckled lewdly as he reached out with his thick meaty hands and, with a vicious jerk, grabbed her bare shoulder, yanking the trembling naked body hard against him, crushing her full ripe breasts against the black hairiness of his massive chest. She stood there subserviently with limp arms hanging helplessly at her side as he lifted her chin and then, with a sadistic grin of victory, pressed his hot wet lips tightly down over hers, thrusting his quivering tongue deep into the warm depths of her mouth. The rock-like hardness of his penis dug into the softness of her navel, and she could feel it throbbing there, beating like a second and external heart.
Mary Anne was only vaguely conscious of the fact that his hands had left her face and were now vigorously-almost painfully-kneading the nakedness of her buttocks. Then, with a suddenness that caused her to cry out in alarm, Tad picked her up, easily carried her across the room, and threw her onto the bed. She landed, legs apart, arms askew, breasts rising and falling in fear-looking very much like a broken and discarded doll atop the rumpled sheets and bedspread.
Excited brutal emotions flashed neon signs across the Sheriff's cruel face as he saw her helpless cunt in all its glory revealed before him. The pink moist slit had all the coloration of a mother of pearl shell, and the ruby, blood-engorged pussy lips looked as soft and as billowy as a sunset cloud. And there, right in the middle of that warm inviting cleft, was the thinly bearded opening to all of the hidden places of her womb. It looked so tiny that it seemed impossible for anything larger than a finger to be inserted there. Abruptly, Tad changed his mind about forcing her to suck his painfully throbbing cock. No, he thought hungrily, as his eyes feasted on the mouth watering sight, let's see just how hot we can get this little bitch. He sat down heavily on the bed.
Mary Anne watched in frozen terror as the mattress sank beneath the ponderous weight of his buttocks. Then, without warning, he was kissing her abdomen. The sudden wet contact sent a warming chill racing the length of her spine. She stiffened and heard him chortle. Seconds later, Tad began moving his mouth down the navel to the "V" of her loins, spreading the sable-like blonde hair with his thumbs and flicking his tongue-like an ant-eater-into the warm, damp cuntal crevice.
"Oh... no! Don't!" Mary Anne jumped from the sudden electrifying contact with the almond-budded clitoris. She fought to close her legs, but the Sheriff merely stuck his elbows between her thighs and forced them wider apart than ever. Spread-eagled, eyes opened in horrified shame, Mary Anne struggled futilely against his bull-like strength. She could see him on elbows and knees, yellowed teeth bared and grinning in victory up at her, as though he were some wild animal stalking toward a sacrificial lamb tethered at a post. Without taking his eyes from hers, Tad bent his head and licked the openly exposed little crevice once. He guffawed as she jerked against his hold.
Then all amusement fled his face as he looked down at the succulent feast awaiting him. The watermelon-coloured moist flesh of her naked, defenseless pussy was there before his eyes, bringing the hot saliva boiling to his mouth. He licked his lips once again in anticipation, then placed palms flat against the inside of her thighs, with his thumbs resting on the soft fleshy portals of her cunt. Slowly, with an outward movement of the thumbs, he drew the juicy pink vulva apart to expose the deeper set of blood red inner cuntal lips. He watched it hungrily for a minute, like a starving man before a delicatessen window, and then with a low moan of obscene hunger, he dropped his head and buried the full-length of his long hot tongue into the slippery, inverted little mouth of her throbbing pussy.
Mary Anne shuddered and a moan-from the depths of her soul-bubbled out of her throat. She ground her buttocks into the mattress in a futile attempt to escape this salacious attack on her virginal cunt. This couldn't be happening to her. It couldn't!
"Oh... please... noooooo! Ohhhhhh! Ohhhhhhh! She whimpered in supplication as his head rocked up and down greedily between her legs.
"No... noooooo... , Oh God! No!" Now it was a continual plea as her blonde head fell back onto the mattress and flailed from side to side as his hot hard tongue drove relentlessly in and out of the involuntarily dilating lips of her cunt. She found herself holding her breath, flexing her thigh muscles, and stretching her toes until they were splayed out wide in helpless protest. Mary Anne abruptly became aware that she was fighting not only him, but also the forbidden pleasure that his rapacious tongue was beginning to bring to her body. She could feel everything down there-the scrape of his beard stubble against the soft sensitive inner thighs, his tongue, his teeth, his hot breath... her own deeper vaginal muscles beginning to twitch in undisguised joy.
Tad kept watching the expression on her face. He knew he was getting to her; she was already secreting tremendous amounts of sweet, thick lubricating nectar from the pulsating walls of her cunt, and her pussy lips were beginning to move like a feeding little guppy fish's mouth. As his tongue and mouth laboured lasciviously, he moved one hairy ham-like hand up over the quivering whiteness of her belly and dug his fingernails harshly into her straining breast, bringing a low moan of pain from her before he began rolling the hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Feeling her own defenses falling under the depraved attack, Mary Anne suddenly began weeping great tears of shame and humiliation. The vile wet slurping noise that the Sheriff was making between her legs was the most horrible thing she had ever heard. Aggravating her degradation, however, was the inescapable fact that if she had not lied to her parents, had not lowered her own moral standards and permitted Bill to arouse her, then she would not be suffering this cruel debasement and she would not be at the mercy of this unprincipled lust-crazed beast who paraded as a representative of the law.
Tad kept his eyes on the girl's face during the entire time as his tongue continued to plunder the soft sensitive walls of her defensively cringing young cunt. He viewed with cruel satisfaction the helpless tears pouring down the sides of her face. He wondered how many times she had been fucked... wondered if this was the first time anyone had eaten any of her delicious, mouth-watering little pussy. Well, one way or the other, he was sure she had never been fucked by a real man-and certainly never by a man with a cock the size of his. He could tell by the way her pussy was twitching that her body was enjoying this... and it was only a matter of moments before she admitted it. Before the night was over, she'd be begging and whimpering to be fucked.
Abruptly he decided he needed more reaction from her... some outward display of either pleasure or revulsion. Grinning lewdly, he took his hands away from her breasts and pushed them under her knees, lifting and pushing them up and over her body so that she was almost bent double and her kneecaps were pressed tightly against her breasts. The whole golden-beige delta of her cunt was revealed in its entirety, as was the puckered little brown lips of her anus. Chuckling, knowing that what he was about to do would drive her up the wall, he used his hot wet tongue like a humming bird's beak to quiver and probe at the tight rubbery opening of her tiny, defensively clenched rectum.
The unexpected assault on her also virginal young back passage caused Mary Anne to stiffen again and brought a long low moan of subjugation from her painfully contorted lips. She closed her eyes, her mouth laxly open in an almost obscene grimace as the unwanted sensations of lust and forbidden pleasure roared like a runaway forest fire through her wildly undulating abdomen.
"Oh... please... don't do... THAT!" She groaned helplessly as his thumb and forefinger caught her clitoris and teasingly pressed it as though he were attempting to squeeze a grape from its skin.
Tad guffawed at the reaction, pleased at the desperate attempt to screw her firm young buttocks down into the mattress and escape. His hot flickering tongue licked without compassion at her tiny virginal anus then made a rapid stab inward. It met resistance for a moment then popped suddenly into the helplessly quivering depths of the tight little opening.
"Aaaaaggggghhh, Oh, God! Don't!" It was a whimper from her this time, a last dying gasp of decency as she felt her betraying young body short-circuiting all control centers of morality, modesty and virtue. Tiny little goose bumps of unwanted pleasure walked their way across her heaving belly and quivering breasts. And, suddenly, she was no longer in command of her own body. Her buttocks began jerking powerfully back toward the relentlessly spearing tongue, attempting to drive it even deeper into the forbidden opening. Wave after wave of spasmodic pleasure arced through her body, and her raw nerves began screaming for physical release.
The realization that now she was truly alone, that she had been deserted by even her own now nakedly writhing body, hit her with all the impact of a 50 caliber slug. She fought with all her will against the delicious pleasure but, even as she was fighting, her hands had dropped to Tad's head where, with fingers entwined in his hair, she was pulling him in tighter against her. She heard his triumphantly, lewd laugh of ultimate victory, but it made no difference to her what he thought of her now. Only one thing mattered... the lewd, obscene things he was doing to her must never cease!
And the traitorous words bubbled but of her throat, "Ahhh... ahhh, don't stop!" That was the signal for the long desperate struggle to end. Her shamelessly aroused body almost bent in double as she sought to culminate the act of unnatural lust. She began a wanton jerking movement of her smoothly rounded young buttocks up and down against his tongue. Her fingers found his ears and used them as handles to pull him further into the steaming cauldron of her cunt. With her complete submission, she forgot about the humiliation, forgot about the possible jail sentence, forgot parents and morals and decency, forgot everything but the pleasure this brutal stranger was bringing her.
Tad could feel the exact second she surrendered to him, and immediately thrust his tongue deep into her throbbing pussy again. He could feel the soft silky pubic hairs grazing tantalizing against the tip of his nose and the sides of his cheeks as she ground her buttocks in impatient little circles up against his face. He watched contorted expressions of lust and eagerness change from frightened girl to wanton woman. She was his now... she would do anything he wanted.
And suddenly, he knew he had to ram his prick deep into that taut little belly of hers and fill her with the fiery flood of his impatiently waiting cum. She was like all the others, he gloated, just another hot little bitch who was crying to be fucked... and she would be fucked; fucked until she couldn't walk a straight line for a week.
He pulled his mouth and tongue away from her now openly pulsating pussy and was rewarded with a low moan of distress from her, "Oh, no... please."
"Don't worry, honey. Now I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before. Spread them hot hi legs."
Mary Anne found her brain and body in heated conflict. She wanted to fight him, to deny him the easy access to her body that he seemed to feel was his due but, even as she deliberated, her trembling legs were opening like the gates to some un-violated sacred place of worship.
The sheriff immediately slithered forward until he was kneeling up between her helplessly splayed thighs. Mary Anne closed her eyes to shut out the sadistic expression on his face, feeling once again the utter humiliation of lying stripped, naked and defenseless under his cold, knowing gaze. She felt the resurgence of shame at the betrayal of her own body-first it had been With Bill last night, then again with Bill earlier this evening, and now it had betrayed her once more with this loathsome stranger. She knew what she wanted and had to have; not only that, she knew the Sheriff was aware of her wanton longings. Now he put it into words for her, "I'm gonna fuck you, honey," he crooned hypnotically. "I'm gonna fuck you just like your little old boy friend was going to do... and you're gonna cry out for more, more, more!" She lay there, with quivering thighs wide open in silent invitation, her breath coming in hoarse rasping pants, and her belly and cunt muscles rippling like a savage, unseen undertow.
Tad bent down over her helpless young body and brutally bit into the upright nipple of her straining right breast. The cry that came from her throat could have been either a protest of pain or a groan of exaltation. A moment later there was no mistaking the lasciviousness in her voice as his hot wet lips began sucking on the lush palpitating mound of flesh. The mewls of pleasure gurgled out of her throat as he moved from right tit to left, and her pelvis began a slow rotating movement up and down as though it were some blind hungry thing seeking sustenance.
The movement did not escape Tad's notice. He grinned lewdly, then chortled, "I knew you was a hot little cunt. Now you're gonna get fucked. I want to see you squirm and cry out for more when this big old cock of mine sinks deep in your pussy. You're gonna scream and beg to be fucked."
Mary Anne lay there, not truly comprehending his words, feeling only a vast impatience that he was talking instead of relieving her. Somehow or another, however, the gist of his lewd conversation sank into her consciousness and in spite of her lingering shame, excited her even further. Still, though, she fought one last battle within herself against her own willingness to be subjugated by this brute without conscience, without scruples or morals.
Then it was too late. Tad levered himself up over her helpless nakedness and used his knees to force her thighs even further apart. He dropped one hand down between their bodies and took his hard, throbbing cock between his fingers and guided it forward. Mary Anne's eyes flickered shut, then just as rapidly flickered open again with a shudder as she felt the thick rubbery head begin to part the full, fleshy lips of her fevered vagina. The first contact between his prick and the sensitive edges of her moist pussy was akin to a small, but powerful electrical shock which brought her back to immediate reality and awareness of what was about to happen.
"No," she cried, reaching up suddenly against his chest and pushing frantically against his weight. "No... you can't!"
The Sheriff's sadistic laughter was the only answer to her abject plea. He pushed forward and Mary Anne groaned as she felt the first harsh pressure against the tight little virginal opening.
The pressure continued... built up intolerably.
"Aaaaggggh," she cried loudly, flailing her head from side to side as though that would relieve the pain. She felt as if her thighs were being ripped apart, a hot fiery Roman candle was being shoved into her vagina. "You're hurting meeeee!"
Perspiration was dripping from the Sheriffs face as he stared down at her. "God, you're a tight little cunt. Feels like it ain't been used too much."
"Please... please... I've never done anything like this... you're hurting me."
"Don't give me that shit, sister. I watched you get all heated up, watched you suck cock... now don't tell me you ain't been fucked before. I don't like to be lied to." In punishment he shoved his hips forward in one vicious jerk. Mary Anne screamed at the top of her lungs as she felt the tight elastic opening to her femaledom caving in to the inexorable pressure.
"Oh, God! No... you're killing me. Stop... stop. Aiiiee!" The last was a shrill cry of agony as the mammoth head of the cock insinuated itself fully inside the stretched-beyond-capacity cuntal lips. Tad made his prick jerk a couple of times and was rewarding with a pleading moan.
Mary Anne looked up at his brutal face and cringed in fear as she suddenly realized that less than an inch of his monstrous fleshy staff was buried inside her. He would kill her. He would split her apart as easily as a butcher halves a chicken, and there would be no mercy from this sadistic creature. Right now he was grinning lewdly down at her, relishing the agony on her face, wanting to see and hear more of her expressions of pain.
Abruptly, the grin on his face was replaced by an implacable masque of feral lust, fearful in its intensity. He was no longer willing to play little games with her, his impatiently throbbing organ was commanding him to fuck and fuck right now! The sight of this lush, tender, helpless girl spread-eagled beneath him was like a goad.
With a hoarse cry he fell forward and his weight crushed her melon-like ripe tits flatly back against her own chest. His hips shot forward at the same moment and his long, hard, rigid shaft of muscle, blood and flesh roared into the tight virginal confines of her cunt like a powerful, thick diamond-headed, case-hardened drill. The soft warm flesh of her vaginal walls held firm against the penetration for less than a second and then gave way before the brutal invasion. The hymen resisted, bent elastically inward, then was shredded-torn like a piece of paper being touched with a hot poker.
"AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH" the gurgling scream of pain was a cry of pure unadulterated agony, as Mary Anne felt virginal flesh and membrane ripping away. His mighty cock continued to plunge deeper into her with all the force of a dive bomber, and the outward rippling waves of pain were unbelievable in their intensity. And still he continued to go deeper, deeper, ever deeper until finally, with a loud groan of delight his testicles slapped hard against the white upturned cheeks of her tightly clenched buttocks.
"Aaaaagggghh... You're... you're killing... meeeee-eeee!" she shrieked, her words almost incomprehensible-coming as they did from between lips drawn so tight from pain that they were merely two white horizontal lines beneath her nose.
"God damn! If you ain't the tightest little cunt I've had in years," Tad said, a grimace of pain on his own face as he felt her vaginal walls clasping his prick like steel fist inside a velvet glove. There was also a look of surprise on his face. From the way the girl had acted in bed with her boy friend, the Sheriff had been sure she fucked like a rabbit. Now, though, he wasn't so sure. She made noises like a god damn virgin, but if he popped a cherry he was positive he would have known it. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure the girl was putting him on. In retaliation, he flexed his hips and made his penis jump in the tightly nested confines of her nakedly cringing pussy.
"Aaaggh, don't move," she pleaded, tears streaming down both cheeks. Never before had she felt such intolerable pressure and pain. It was as though someone had shoved a railroad tie deep into the soft sensitive flesh of her helplessly trembling little belly-not only shoved in the tie, but had taken an air pump and blown up the balloon of her heavily filled stomach. She was positive she had been ripped from anus to navel, the flesh having been torn apart as easily as the fragile wishbone on an over-cooked chicken. Every little muscular ridge of the hard fleshy rod could be felt pressing against her tortured vaginal walls, and the mammoth mushroom head throbbed and beat like a monstrous metronome in the echo chambers of her womb. He had taken her virginity by force-a virginity she had been willing to give away through an act of love, a virginity she had been preserving for an act of love. He had taken it by force and, from his behaviour, he obviously was too insensitive a brute to know that he had just destroyed her most priceless possession. She realized her tears of shame and humiliation and pain were bringing added pleasure to him, but she could not control them. They poured down her face.
Mary Anne was correct in thinking that Tad Peabody enjoyed seeing her tears. It was proof to him that his cock was bigger than anything she had ever experienced before, and he knew that within minutes those tears would be replaced by a contorted expression of raw lust-an expression that cried out to be fucked. It wouldn't take long to turn this young, inexperienced cunt into a wanton, begging little slut afflicted with all the helpless desires of a drugged whore. He knew this beyond a doubt as a result of the way she had acted while he was licking at her tight little pussy. Sure, she had resisted, but not as much as she could have. She had a hot streak of wantonness in her, that was evident in her sucking of the boy's cock and in her exhortations to himself that she didn't want him to stop. He'd fuck her silly, then let good old Stan get his kicks in with her. When she left Pistola Beach, she'd be pathetically grateful for the lessons he had taught her, for the pleasure he had brought her.
Tad lay still for a moment, his face hovering down at hers. Mary Anne stifled her sobs, for even the stomach muscular movement associated with the shuddering sighs caused her vaginal walls to dilate and compress. Both were silent for a moment, then suddenly Tad made his cock jerk deep inside her again; the movement caused the Cyclopean head to burrow in even deeper.
"Ohhhh... no," she groaned, her face contorting to a helpless masque of pain again. "Don't move it."
"What'd you say?" he asked, deliberately tormenting her and flexing again.
"Aggggh," she groaned, and Tad could feel her pussy tightening as her stomach muscles contracted once more in pain.
"Kinda like that, don't you?" he boasted, grinning down sadistically.
Mary Anne could not answer.
Tad jerked his penis again, this time deliberately forcing the head upward and deeper. "Answer me when I speak to you, slut."
"Ooohhhh. Yes," she cried, not willing to inflict further punishment on herself by telling the truth.
"You really do like it, I can tell. So I think you ought to beg a little."
Mary Anne stared up at him. She refused to bow to this ultimate act of degradation. She would never beg. Never!
Tad waited less than five seconds, then pulled his prick out about an inch and slammed it home with all the force of a pile driver.
"Aaaaagghhhhh, don't!"
"Then beg, you fucking bitch. Beg to be fucked like a woman."
"Please!" It was a pitiful plea wrenched from the helplessly open mouth of the cruelly impaled teenage girl. "Please what?"
"I... I... don't understand."
"Tell me what you want. You want to be fucked. So ask for it like a lady. Just say, 'Please fuck me.'"
"I... I can't. Please don't make me," she whimpered in fear and shameful humiliation beneath him.
"Now! Beg! God damn you!" He withdrew his cock even further this time and slammed it in to the hilt once more, his balls bouncing flatly against her upturned buttocks.
"Aaaagghh. Don't. Please. Please fuck me."
Tad made his prick jump twice in succession. "What'd you say? I couldn't quite hear you."
"Ooooh, God!" She began sobbing as the final shards of resistance were ripped and scattered before his omnipotent power, her increasing pain, and the complete impotence of her own helpless position.
"Say it."
"Fuck me. Please fuck me." It was said woodenly, without hope, and tears gushed with new force from her stricken eyes as she was forced to mouth the lewd, obscene phrase. She knew instinctively that now total victory was his, while total humiliation and degradation were hers. She would never be the same again, she would never feel the same again. He had called her a "slut" and a "whore", and that's exactly what she felt she was. She had permitted herself to lose control over all the things she had been taught and learned, and now her self respect and dignity "and honesty were all gone along with her fragile membrane of virginity. As long as she lived she would never forget this moment of ultimate degradation when this complete stranger had forced her to beg and she had not had the intestinal fortitude to withstand his perverted demand. And even as she touched bottom in her despair, her young and resurgent spirit was already seeking to heal her mental anguish. From far off in her consciousness, she recalled a high school saying-an axiom that she thought would never pertain to her-If rape is inevitable, you might as well relax and enjoy it. Well, to all intents and purposes, she had been raped. The act had not been culminated yet. She knew that part of the intense pain was of her own doing because she was frightened and stiff. Consciously, she made a determined effort to relax.
Above her, Tad sensed her acceptance of the inevitable and clamped his hot wet lips down over her mouth as he began what to Mary Anne seemed to be a surprisingly gentle rocking motion back and forth between her thighs. His huge, fleshy instrument came partially out, then moved slowly back in again. It hurt, but not as much as before. The intolerable pressure was still there, it still felt as if she were being stretched beyond the point of human endurance, but the agony had faded.
Tad could feel the tight narrow cuntal passage widening slightly with each smooth stroke he made into her pussy. He didn't want to admit it, but the tightness of her cunt was going to cause him some control problems. Even as he was thinking about it, Mary Anne's body had begun to react in small ways beneath him. It started with an almost imperceptible twitch on both sides of her vaginal wall, then something was happening to her cervical and uterine muscles as she alternatively tightened and loosened her stomach muscles. Welcoming lubricant oozed out of her cuntal membranes, and Tad's prick began riding even more smoothly in and out of her suddenly willing and eager vagina.
Within a minute, Mary Anne's entire body was twitching and writhing beneath him. She started a continuous mewling into the tobacco and whiskey scented moistness of his mouth, and then shoved her tongue with a fiery wantonness deep into his throat. Low moans of lewdly servile acceptance came from her passion-constricted throat as, with face disfigured by an implacable animal-lust, her nostrils flared and she raised her knees to clap his hard pumping buttocks between them.
"That's it, baby. Now you're getting with it," Tad chortled, staring down at her now eagerly mouth working, at the straining neck tendons, and at the beads of perspiration that had suddenly broken out on her forehead under the now disheveled soft blonde hair.
Mary Anne began riding with him, raising her pelvis slightly to meet each inward thrust he made. Now that he had her working in unison, Tad slipped his hands down her sides and slid them under the supple warm globes of her moving ass, grasping one tightly in each hand, and feeling the deeper muscles pulsating like some powerful underground machinery. He jerked her harder to his strokes and felt her willingness to withdraw as he withdrew, so the moist hot hole of her pussy could open further and receive his cock to a deeper penetration.
As pleasure overrode the pain centers of her nerve system, Mary Anne's legs on either side of his impaling rod of lust-hardened flesh began quivering and then jerking in uncontrolled abandon. Her eyes were closed and her tongue slavered up into his mouth, scraping his teeth, the roof of his mouth, and burrowing itself deep down the back of his throat. Her groans of pain had long since given way to animal mewls of pure pleasure. Neck and thigh tendons stood out hard and tense, and her stomach muscles rippled with each movement of her pelvis as she moved beneath him with an abandonment that surprised them both. No longer was there thought in Mary Anne's mind of anything except the wonderful sensation of lying beneath this crude, brutal stranger who was violating her body, fucking her to near insensibility... and her own desire to give back his every joyful thrust with one of her own. The Sheriff laboured heavily above her, no longer wanting to humiliate her... only to dominate her. She was meeting him halfway off the mattress now, and when their bodies clashed against each other, she fought him-rotating her hips and rearing and bucking in the air-like a fighting marlin standing on its tail attempting to dislodge the cruel barb of the hook.
Abruptly, he moved slightly higher on her in order to bring his scraping cock into direct contact with her clitoris. He began making longer strokes that brought his prick almost all the way out of her now hungrily sucking vagina On the backstroke and then plummeting forward into her uplifted buttocks again until he could feel the hard slap of his testicles down against the defenseless little anus. Grinning lewdly, he quickly slipped his hand further under the supple mounds of her buttocks and pressed his middle finger against the soft warm opening. He could feel the puckered little lips of it nibbling his finger as though it were some toothless animal trying to feed. Before she could protest, he pushed into it with a quick movement feeling the tight elastic aperture giving way against the onslaught.
Mary Anne's body stiffened and she gasped, "Oooh... God... that hurts."
Tad immediately thrust harder, feeling sadistic pleasure at her pained protest as his thick middle finger slid in all the way to the second knuckle.
"Aaaagh, you're hurting me!".
Tad laughed cruelly then began working his finger around inside, stretching the rubbery softness of the warm, clinging tunnel wider and wider. Within seconds another finger had joined the first, and he felt the right resistance fading as her now widely stretched back passage held both fingers all the way up to the palm of his hand.
Now she was moaning once more-guttural mewls of pleasure as her anus gradually became used to this unnatural invasion. Tad's face was wrapped in a smile of conquest and victory as he felt her tentatively screw her rectum back onto his probing fingers. She winced as one of his fingernails dug painfully into the soft, warmly rubbery walls of her rectum, then began twisting and squealing in complete abandonment under the double rape of her virginal loins.
Mary Anne knew she was hopelessly impaled between his mammoth pounding prick in her pussy and his fingers working in and out of her rectum. It was almost impossible to move or seek relief in any direction. And she knew in her heart that she didn't care. Nothing had ever felt so masochistically beautiful before in her life. She liked being here, an abjectly helpless love slave for a brutally insensitive barbarian. There was a new and more pleasurable kind of pressure building up in her vagina now. It was as though all the softness down there had begun clasping tight to his rampaging prick and seeking to pull it all the way into her. She hated each withdrawal stroke, not wanting to let his penis go, unwilling to have him pull it out; and her moist hair-lined slit quivered in loving protest. Sensations, some of them almost unbearably beautiful, were beginning to arc through her ganglions with each long, hard, pile-driving thrust inward.
Tad sensed she was about to cum, and he welcomed the message her cunt passed on to him. He wasn't weary or tired, but her pussy had felt so god-damned fabulously tight that he, himself, was about finished. Quickly then, he moved his other hand up between their two nakedly straining bodies and began fondling the greedily contracting lips of her cunt where he entered her, feeling and playing with the tiny, lustfully throbbing clitoris and bringing a low continuous moan from her throat. Without volition, his thrusts became more urgent, and Mary Anne responded as though she had been fucking all her life by beginning to thrash beneath him. Her fingernails raked his back, bringing long furrows of raw redness to his white shoulders.
She was almost there, he could feel it as her legs on either side of his buttocks jerked wide and up as though she were inviting him to do what he willed with her defenselessly spread young vagina. Then her knees were beating a savage tattoo of desire against his rib cage' as she began chanting, "Oh... oh... oh... " Her face was completely disfigured by the hot, feral lust that pounded like demon's blood through every artery, every vein, every capillary of her body.
"Ohhhh... OHHHH... " That was all she said, for suddenly her body stiffened and her breath caught in her throat.
Tad groaned as he sought to catch up with her, quickening his stroke even more, grinding hard and deep so that his long hard prick roamed far up into the blind, untouched canyons of her cunt. Her breasts quivered and strained up against the massive hairiness of his chest, and the hardened nipples pressed against him like little brown diamond shirt studs.
Suddenly Tad felt her pussy opening up all around his prick, and a warm, gushing viscosity flooded out of her pulsating cuntal lips. She tried to gasp the message that she was cumming, but she didn't have the words. All she could do was repeat over and over again, with a vast sense of wonder echoed in her taut, almost inarticulate voice, "Oh... OH! God... Ah... ahhhh? Aiieeee!" Tad dug his cock deep, deep, deeper inside her, then with her body jerking and thrashing maniacally against his, he pushed his prick in for one final jab-holding it deep inside her-and then let...
"Oh, God. I'M cumming... I'm cumming," he moaned, as the lips of her cunt scissored against his prick, sucking at it as if attempting to milk it of every bit of strength. Then his own boiling hot semen shot through the long throbbing length of his cock and spurted far up into her warmly throbbing little belly.
Mary Anne, lost in a delirium of pure sensation as she felt his prick jerking and the heat of his sperm filling her, merely wrapped her arms around his massive chest and said, "Yes... yes... cum!" as love liquids from the two bodies joined in a hot pool of delight deep in the joyously quivering recesses of her womb. She knew she had experienced a tremendous orgasm with this crude stranger, and the knowledge left her confused. Her heart was still pounding in her chest as though it were some run-away machine with no governor attached. Her legs went limp and her knees slid down from his buttocks around which they had locked themselves like flesh-coloured handcuffs. She felt weak, a weakness that metamorphosed rapidly into shame and humiliation as she remembered what had happened and how she had acted and who was still lying atop her with his mammoth penis still plunged like the sword of a victor deep inside the heart of her still trembling little belly.
And, abruptly, tears gushed from her eyes and flooded down both sides of her face. She knew that, although she had acceded to this inhuman monster's horrible demands, her long evening's ordeal probably had only begun... and she knew that she was more defenseless than ever, for now she no longer had the self respect or decency or dignity to fight him... and, in truth, wasn't even sure she wanted to fight...
CHAPTER SEVEN
Stan drove back to the Paradise Motor Inn from the jail with a concerned and thoughtful look on his face. He wasn't sure, but it seemed quite possible that the Sheriff might be in trouble as a result of the Watson boy. Jesus! That was all they needed, to have a smart-assed punk get sick and screw up the works. When he had delivered Bill to the jail, the other kids in the lock up had been pounding on the bars with spoons and shoes, and yelling and shouting for over an hour. The noise could be heard half a mile away. A badly frightened Harvey Roberts, who was working as night jailor tonight, met him at the front door and gave him the bad news.
"I've been trying to reach the Sheriff," Harve said, " 'cause I think one of the prisoners is kinda sick. The kids claim he's been unconscious for over two hours and is throwing up some bloody stuff."
Stan marched on past him without a word, and locked up Bill in the holding cell. Then he came back to the deputy. "Okay," he said thoughtfully, "what happened?" He knew that Harve, although only 19 himself, didn't panic easily; so obviously something bad had occurred earlier.
Harve squirmed under Stan's questioning. Finally he shrugged and said, "Well, the Sheriff put the boots to him when the kid got smart-alecky."
"Where?"
"In the nuts and back."
"Jesus Christ! Stan exploded. "Didn't I warn you guys about the back area. First of all you leave a god-damned bruise you can't possibly hide or explain, and if you don't know exactly what you're doing you're going to send a guy to the hospital or the morgue."
"Well, it wasn't me," Harve squealed. "Tad's the one who booted him. I didn't lay a hand on him."
"Oh, shit! I'd better take a look at him." Stan unlocked the master cell door and went back through the bedlam of shouting, screaming kids. "SHUT UP," he bellowed. The prisoners immediately fell silent. "That's better. Now where's the kid who's supposed to be sick?"
A thin, pimply-faced youth in a swim suit and short sleeved sweat shirt said, "Over here. You'd better get an ambulance quick; he's dying."
Stan glared at the boy sarcastically. "You a doctor-qualified to give medical opinions?"
"No," the youth began, "but I can tell when... "
"Shut up then." Stan unlocked the door and went in. He didn't have to take a second look at the motionless, white-faced figure of the boy lying on the bunk to know that they were all in trouble. The kid might not be dying, but was hurt bad. That meant they'd probably have to sober up Doc Pearson and bring him down to the jail so he could have a look.. Christ! They might even have to take the kid to the hospital... that's when the shit would hit the fan.
The kids remained silent as Stan nodded and announced, "Okay. I'll get a doctor." This, surprisingly, was greeted by loud, good-natured cheers. He went out, shaking his head, perplexed as always by the rapidity with which kids' moods change from violent anger to playfulness and back to anger again. You couldn't trust them anymore than you could an ass biting hound with bad blood he thought.
When Stan got back out to the office he told the deputy to have someone start looking. for Doc Pearson. "Try the nigger whore house in Kennedyville first," he added.
Harve nodded his understanding then asked, "Where you and Tad gonna be in case I need you?"
"We're going to be out of town and out of touch."
"But, Stan... "
"No 'buts', them's the Sheriff's orders." Stan was forced to stare Harve down; he'd never seen the deputy so rattled before. Well, maybe it would teach the dumb son of a bitch a lesson-don't ever use your boots low on a man's back-keep 'em in the ribs or low in the belly. It might not hurt, he thought, to throw a little scare into Sheriff Peabody as well. Tad, of all people, should know better than boot a skinny kid in the kidneys... no matter what the provocation.
Stan was determined to tell the Sheriff all about the Watson boy when he parked the patrol car out in the closed portion of the Paradise Motor Inn's garage and let himself in the back way to his own apartment. However, once upstairs in his study, the sight that greeted his eyes through the two way mirror made him forget everything except his own suddenly boiling desire.
Down there below him, the white, hardly glistening cock of the Sheriff was burrowing into the young blonde girl's wide-opened little pussy. He had been right; the little cunt was a hot one. There she was, her mouth laxly open, tongue hanging out of the side, using arms and knees to ride old Tad as though she were clinging to the underside of a galloping horse. God, she was really pouring it to him! Obviously they both were about to cum. Quickly, he picked up his Polaroid and shot one for the record book. You couldn't recognize Tad, unless you knew his ass, but you sure as hell could identify the girl! Who knows, they might need it later as additional proof that she was nothing more than just an adventuresome little slut who had fucked half the men in Pistola Beach before the police finally caught on to her activities.
Stan thought briefly once more about the Watson kid's injuries as he walked downstairs and unlocked the door between the rooms, but then it slipped his mind completely as he entered the bedroom and heard Tad's delighted snorting and bellowing, "Oh, God! I'm cumming," together with the girl's seductive crooning, "Yes... yes oh god, cum inside me." He stood there silently watching the thick white rod spurting jerkily in and out of the pink, wildly clasping furrow of the girl's wide spread cunt, before the two nakedly entwined bodies sort of melted into each other as their simultaneous orgasms left them both weak.
He had already removed his boots and unzipped his uniform trousers when he heard the Sheriff say wonderingly, "God damn if you ain't the hottest little fuck I've had in years."
Instead of responding, the girl had fallen limply back against the mattress and begun sobbing That was the trouble with women, Stan thought in disgust; they never were honest, even with themselves! This little cunt had really enjoyed the reaming she got from old Tad, but now she was acting as though she hadn't liked it one bit. Well, just wait until she felt him get it up inside her; that little pussy of hers would be standing up at attention, saluting, singing the Star Spangled Banner, and yelling "play ball" before he got through with her. Stan was completely naked when he padded across the room, tapped the Sheriff on his bare ass, and said, "Well, Tad. You gonna stay there all night? How about letting the enlisted men have some of that prime little pussy!"
Peabody jumped as if he had been shot and turned around. "Cod damnit, Stan. Don't sneak up on me like that." t Stan saw the sudden look of understanding horror cross the girl's face as she realized he was going to fuck her also. His crude laugh made her wince as though she had been struck.
"Now come on, honey. You didn't think old Tad here was going to be the only one that got to sample that hot little cunt of yours? How many times did he make you cum, anyway?"
Mary Anne's only answer was a whimpering sob.
Tad laughed in cruel glee at Stan's lewd question. "Hell, it don't matter none about how many times... it's the quality that counts. She only came once, but it damned near killed her it was so good. Now that I've stretched it open, when you shove that dinky little old pecker of yours in there it'll be just like sticking a rat's tail down a well." He guffawed at his own crude humor, then his belly started shaking with laughter as he saw the look of disgust and shame on the girl's face. Without Warning, he pulled the long flaccid length of his cock from her cunt; it came out with a loud wet "plop."
"There you are, boy. Help yourself," he said.
"Jesus Christ!" Stan exclaimed, as he saw the mass of blood and cum on the sheets and on the girl's thighs and abdomen. "She's flying the red flag."
Tad looked down disbelievingly at his own blood-smeared thighs then stared in accusation at the girl. "Shit, woman! Why in hell didn't you tell me you had the rag on before I went down on you?" His face contorted in a grimace and he looked as if he were afraid to lick his lips.
Mary Anne had begun weeping uncontrollably again. She stuttered out the words, "I... I'm... not... menstruating. You hurt me." Then, with a sudden heat in her voice, she added, I told you I hadn't ever done anything like this before."
Stan took one look at the stunned expression on Tad's face and he doubled up in laughter. "Whooeeee. Just look at yourself in the mirror." He snorted and wheezed in his amusement. "God damn! Now that's a real experienced cocksman for you. Doesn't even know when he gets a cherry."
Tad glanced like a tormented bull from the deputy to the weeping girl, not knowing what to believe. The fucking kid couldn't have been a virgin... not as hot as she had acted! And yet, he was forced to believe her as he remembered the taste of her cunt. That had been sweet as orange blossom honey-no blood there then. Shaking his head sadly, feeling as if he had been cheated, he rolled over on the bed and lay face up staring at the ceiling as Stan quickly crawled up between her limply spread legs.
Mary Anne could feel her stomach trying to draw itself up in a tiny ball as this second man kneeled between her helplessly outspread thighs. He grinned lewdly down at her, and she closed her eyes to shut out the sight of his smirking, knowing face.
"Baby, when my cock finishes with you, you'll know what it means to be fucked," he bragged.
Mary Anne had expected the return of excruciating pain again when he slipped up inside her, but her once plundered vagina was now so filled with the Sheriff's still hot semen and her own warm excitement that his prick slid in easily all the way. She was surprised at the ease of penetration... -surprised and relieved. Almost immediately he began to fuck vigorously in and out of her, riding high and scraping at the overly-sensitive clitoris. The sensations were almost overwhelming, right from the beginning, and she fought them with every bit of her battered will power. It was an unfair contest, however, for Stan seemed to sense that she was fighting him and he began to rotate his hips, driving in from slightly different angles and scraping every hidden part of the inner walls of her womb. Then, almost without realizing it her hips had begun tantalizingly slow grinding up and down, and then her knees raised slightly as her naked young body began to cooperate with this new ravishment of her defenseless cunt. After a moment, she gasped as the last mental barriers fell before the powerful sensations engendered by his teasingly rotating penis and her now awakened and suddenly eager vagina.
Tad watched as her long supple legs lifted and locked themselves around the deputy's buttocks. He still had difficulty believing the girl had been a virgin. Just look at her go, he thought, she's a natural born fucker... probably could screw poor old Stan and me both into an early grave.
Mary Anne felt the first tremulous beginnings of the orgasm within two minutes, and it was on her before she was prepared. Her body simply went out of control as she gasped out the message, "Aaaaahhhh... Aiiiiieeeee... I'm cumming. I'm cumming!"
Stan, wanting to conquer her completely, just kept sawing away, and he was rewarded by the knowledge that she had immediately reached an orgasmic plateau where she was almost in continuous climax. He deliberately withheld his own impatient sperm until her responses grew weaker and weaker and she slumped near unconscious back against the pillow. Her legs splayed out obscenely, her eyes rolled up in her head, and her mouth hung laxly open. It was only then that Stan drove his prick viciously home half a dozen times and groaned in wild relief and delight as it began spewing out its hot load of cum into the swirling depths of her satiated little pussy.
He pulled his deflating cock out of Mary Anne's limply sprawled body and then stood beside the bed, grinning in victory down at the girl and at Tad. "Well, Tad? You wanta try a little more?"
"Hell, there ain't nothing left to try. Unless she's just pretending." He bent over and pinched the young blonde teenager's nipple. The only response was an almost inaudible moan. Tad shook his head, "She ain't playing possum, that's for sure."
"Nope," Stan said proudly. "She won't be worth a damn for anything for at least a couple of Tad stood up and scratched his hairy belly, then spotted the whiskey bottle on the table near the door. He padded over like some thirsty bear and began drinking; his Adam's apple danced several times and, when he lowered the bottle, the liquid level had dropped about three inches. He belched, then said unhappily, "I sure didn't think the party would end this quick." Rapidly,. he added, "I ain't finding fault, you know. That cunt there was the best I had in a long time, but that's the trouble with a real energetic little girl like that... puts everything she's got into the first fuck." He grinned nastily, obviously getting a dig in, "Doesn't leave much for the man who has to take seconds."
Stan snatched the bottle from him. "Who you trying to shit? About all you did was loosen her up a bit for me." He drank about two inches of the whiskey, then found the bottle ripped from his hands.
"Don't be a hog," Tad growled, good-naturedly. He nipped two inches, stared at the remainder as if trying to decide whether or not to share it, then shrugged and handed it over to Stan. He glanced back over toward Mary Anne. "Don't suppose there's anything we can do to put some life in that, do you... a little red pepper, or pour some whiskey in it, or something?"
"Why don't you just crawl up there and shove it to her?"
"That'd be about as exciting as fucking a jar of grape jelly." Tad gazed remorsefully at the almost empty bottle of whiskey, then drained it. As the last drop went down his throat, his eyes suddenly widened and he put down the bottle almost reverently.
Stan saw the expression and, puzzled, asked, "What's wrong?"
Tad made a pretense of looking under the dinette table, then shook his head sadly. A moment later, he lifted the bedspread and looked under the unused bed.
"What's got into you, Tad Peabody?" Stan asked, really perplexed now.
"I thought you told me there was two cunts in this room."
Stan looked stunned. He had forgotten all about the little brunette, and now that he thought about her perfect little figure and her distant coolness when she had checked in, he abruptly decided that she would probably be even a better fuck than her blonde room mate. "Jesus!" he said. "I completely forgot about her."
"Well, where the fuck is she?"
"Christ, I don't know."
"Let's ask this little cunt here. She ought to know." Tad went over to the bedside and gruffly shook Mary Anne's leg. The girl moaned and stirred. "Come on," Tad snarled. "Wake up." When she didn't respond, he grimaced angrily, grabbed her hair close to her head, and slapped her face two or three times... not enough to bruise, but enough to sting to half-awakefulness.
Mary Anne came sputtering to the surface of consciousness. For a second she couldn't recall where she was or what had happened. Then she remembered and with the return of memory came the sensation of pain on her face, at her hair line, and between her legs, together with the shame of what had occurred. Her body felt abused and obscenely defiled. Oh God... Please, please don't let them do that to me again, she thought groggily. What other, even more horrible, things they had done while her body lay there unconscious, she couldn't even begin to imagine. She abruptly became aware that someone was speaking angrily to her.
"What... did you say?" she asked, trying to focus her eyes.
Tad sighed in exasperation and repeated his question for the third time. "I said, 'Where's your girl friend?'; we want to talk to her."
Mary Anne had opened her mouth to answer when suddenly her brain and conscience began screaming warnings at her. She couldn't betray Sharon! Never! Sharon was her friend, and Mary Anne knew the real reason these horrible men wanted to get their hands on her. No! They could slap and shout and torture all they wanted, but she would never betray her friend. Mary Anne gazed directly into the Sheriff's eyes; his figure went in and out of focus, but her voice was steady when she replied, "I don't know."
Stan said quietly, "She's lying."
The Sheriff twisted his hand, pulling her long blonde hair so tight that it seemed ready to rip out of her scalp. "I know you're lying, too. Where is she?"
"I won't tell you."
Surprisingly, the Sheriff let go of her hair and Mary Anne's head fell back against the pillow. He glanced over toward the deputy. "Stan," he said, "how'd you like to hold this little girl while I fuck her in the asshole?"
Mary Anne cringed in horror and involuntarily brought her knees up in protection as the deputy brutally laughed and said, "I think we both ought to try putting our pricks in there."
"No... please! You can't," she pled. Weren't they satisfied with their ravishment of her vagina? What sort of perverted beasts were these men? She would die before she permitted that to happen. Besides, her bruised and battered body and mind had taken more punishment than any woman could be expected to take. She screamed in fright and attempted to twist away as the deputy lunged at her feet. Laughing, the Sheriff put his brawny arms around her hips and with one savage twist, turned her body face down on the bed. Mary Anne kicked and squirmed with all her strength, but the two men only snickered at her futile efforts. Suddenly the Sheriff grabbed two pillows and shoved them under her hips, forcing her defenseless white young buttocks up into the air.
"Don't... oh, God! Please don't," she wept, crying in abject fear and cringing futilely down into the mattress.
Sheriff Peabody grabbed her hair again and turned her face toward him. His huge, fully erect prick was only inches away from her lips now.
"All right," he said. "Tell us where your friend is and well leave you alone."
"Please... please don't make me. I can't tell you." She groaned and squirmed as she felt the deputy forcing her legs apart and then the horrible touch of his finger probing into the soft giving cleft of her buttocks. The Sheriff at the same time slowly pulled the foreskin back from the head of his cock. Mary Anne could see the oozing white seminal fluid seeping from the tip. Even as she watched, the cock moved forward until it was pressing against her tightly clenched lips. Sheriff Peabody used the head as he would a mammoth tube of lipstick to smear the seeping semen on the end around her mouth. Then, miraculously, he withdrew it... and at the same time, the finger went away from her anus.
"Tell us," the Sheriff said ominously. "We won't ask you again. This is your last chance to cooperate with us."
All thoughts of protecting Sharon went out the window with this reprieve. Mary Anne knew she would do anything to keep from submitting to these beasts again... even if it meant betraying her best friend. And even as her mind was formulating these accusing thoughts, a process of rationalization had begun. After all, she wouldn't be in this position right now if it weren't for Sharon and her lies. Sharon was to blame for everything that had happened to Mary Anne... the arrest, the rape, and now this new and even more dreadful threat of unnatural ravishment.
Quickly then, before either they, or she, could change their minds, she gasped out the room number where Sharon and George were located. And the enormity of what she had just done immediately hit her. She began weeping once again-deep, shuddering sobs of undiluted shame at her betrayal of herself and Sharon.
She wasn't even aware that the two men had dressed in their uniforms, strapped on their guns, and left her locked in the room.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Both George and Sharon were so stoned out of their minds on the marijuana that neither was conscious of what was going on around them. Of the two, George was far worse. Sharon, at least, reacted with a soft croon of delight-even though she didn't open her eyes-when Tad began fondling her perfect little body. She was bone dry in the vagina, which pleased the Sheriff; he looked forward to dampening it for her. He wormed his middle finger all the way in to the hilt, causing Sharon to sigh and close her thighs in on his hand. A vacuous grin was etched on her face.
Stan slapped and back-handed George a couple of times and got absolutely no reaction at all from the boy. He turned to the Sheriff, watching him finger fuck his girl and massage her breasts, and said, "It's no use. Want to leave him here? He won't be capable of going any place for a long time."
"Suit yourself," Tad said, continuing his fondling of the unconscious girl, "but the snatch goes with me over to the other room."
For a split second Stan felt a flare of anger. That god-damned Peabody was a real hog when it came to women, a selfish, inconsiderate, son of a bitch who always had to be first... never second... always leaving a pussy cum soaked for the next guy to flounder through. Abruptly, Stan decided he was going to stick close to Tad and the girl. When the time came to bury a cock in her, he would have his say-even if it meant threatening the Sheriff with an end to these little parties unless Stan got his rightful share too.
"Okay," the motel owner said, dumping George's unconscious body back onto the bed. "We leave him." He took his handcuffs and locked the boy's wrist to the bedspring. "I'll come with you and the broad." The Sheriff was so engrossed with the slowly growing slipperiness of Sharon's vagina that he seemed to be paying no attention to him. Stan could see his mammoth prick outlined in its half aroused stage under his uniform trousers.
Finally Tad did look up. "Do you think we should fuck her here?" It was asked hopefully.
"No. Let's go back to the other little cunt. That way we can play doubles later on."
The Sheriff reluctantly stopped his digital assault on Sharon's defenseless cunt. He pulled out his finger, sniffed it, grinned, and nodded his head in approval.
They didn't bother to dress the girl in the bikini swim suit that was lying crumpled on the floor next to the bed. Instead, they used George's white shirt as a dress. It came down just below her buttocks and, to all intents and purposes, afforded as much coverage as a mini-skirt. Then supporting her between them, they locked the room and half-carried her past the pool, across the lawn, to Stan's private entrance. Before opening the door, the motel owner glanced carefully around. No one had seen them, he thought, and that was good.
He had no way of knowing that their progress across the lawn with the unconscious woman had been noted by the night clerk who watched them with a look of disgust, knowing exactly what was about to happen to the helpless young white girl. He had seen it before, many times before. After they had disappeared into Stan's private room, he stood there silently for a long time, a thoughtful look on his dark placid face.
When they threw open the door between Stan's apartment and the girls' motel room, Mary Anne-still groggy but fully dressed-spun around weeping in frustration as she frantically twisted the knob and pounded at the lock in an effort to get the front door open.
Stan laughed mirthfully. "Just take a look at that, Sheriff. One little whore apprehended while attempting to escape."
Mary Anne shrank back as he quickly moved across the room and snatched the purse from her hands. He opened it, reached in, and pulled out the photographs. "Trying to steal State's evidence as well."
Tad stared at the blonde girl huddling in fright against the door, with one trembling fist pressed up to her mouth. His eyes roved her ripe luscious figure and he could feel his earlier excitement about the blonde beginning to build up again. Jesus, she looked even better dressed in that tight sweater and little navy blue-knit mini skirt than she had nude... if that was possible. He wondered what kind of panties she was wearing under the skirt, and suddenly he had a tremendous desire to undress her... to slowly uncover every delicious morsel of that sexy, big-titted young body. He removed his arm from around Sharon's waist, and the petite brunette slumped to the floor.
Mary Anne only then became aware of Sharon's condition. Impulsively she started toward her friend. "Oh... God! What have you done to her?" She hadn't taken two steps before Stan grabbed her around the waist and spun her around, pressing his hot, wide-open mouth against her lips which were parted in startled protest.
"Don't!" she managed to gasp before her objections were cut off by the motel owner's mouth. The fright was pouring adrenalin into her blood system, and the earlier sexual-induced stupor was rapidly leaving her in full command of senses and body. Her squealing struggles only made both men laugh crudely as they seemingly took great delight at her futile efforts to release herself from their clutches. She heard the gruff voice of the Sheriff coming from right behind her. "Hold her, Stan," he ordered.
The deputy's arm obediently tightened around her waist, and although she was fighting now with all her strength, she was no match for the awesome power of the burly motel owner.
Tad reached out with one hand and lifted her skirt from behind. He whistled and grinned as he saw the powder blue bikini panties clinging lovingly to the soft rounded curves of her supple buttocks, then stared in hungry appreciation at the shadowy, beguiling cleft of her ass and at the backs of her thighs, tanned now, where little soft almost imperceptible blonde hairs lay like a fine sheen of perspiration. Using the fingers and palms of both hands, he reached up and began peeling down the panties. All of Mary Anne's exertions proved to be of no avail; she could not prevent him from obtaining his lewd objective. A moment later she felt the cool breeze blowing against her naked buttocks and heard his lewd laugh of victory as he stared at the ripened mounds of flesh so enticingly revealed before his glittering pig-like eyes. He bit her; she squealed. Impatiently, now, he released the snaps at the side of the skirt and it, too, dropped in a heap to the floor to join her nylon panties.
Mary Anne could only groan inarticulately, incapable of speech as Stan's tongue drove in and out of her protesting mouth. A feeling of utter dejection and defeat had begun stealing over her again. She was a sexual captive of these two horrible strangers; she had fought them earlier with all her strength and mind, but they had crumpled her defenses as though the moral barriers had never been erected at all. There was, she gradually realized with resignation, absolutely nothing she could do to prevent them from doing as they willed with her. Neither fight nor cooperation would speed her release. What was to be... would be! And abruptly, all will to fight left her. She stood there, trembling and defeated, letting them do as they desired.
"That's better," Stan growled, feeling her body suddenly relax. At once his hands dropped from waist and shoulders to cup her cool buttocks in the palms of his hands. He began kneading them as he would bread dough.
Tad unbuttoned the back of the tight sweater and then yanked it up over her head. Seconds later, Mary Anne felt the release of pressure against her breasts and realized that the bra had been taken off, too. She was nude now, completely nude-stripped of clothing and of self respect and of desire to fight.
Once they had her naked, both men seemed to be momentarily at a loss to know what to do next. But not for long, however. It was the Sheriff who got a thoughtful look on his face, then laughed coarsely. Without explaining, he went across the room and picked up Sharon. He carried her effortlessly to the bed and tossed her down on it. When she landed, the white dress shirt came up over her hips revealing her startling black and sparsely flecked young pubic mound, and Mary Anne realized only then that Sharon wore nothing beneath...
"Undress her, real slow like," the Sheriff demanded.
Stan guffawed as he realized what the other man had in mind. When Mary Anne didn't move' immediately from her spot by the door, he reached around from behind and brutally pinched her breast.
She moaned in helpless pain and then found herself propelled viciously forward as Stan put his boot against her buttocks and shoved with all his might. She fell across the bed.
"Undress her," the Sheriff repeated, and his voice had an unmistakable threat of real punishment in it if she did not start cooperating.
Refusing to think of the consequences, Mary Anne slowly began unbuttoning the white dress shirt. Sharon moaned and mumbled something, then turned her head to one side and went back to sleep. The movement caused the shirt to slide open over her little ripe, peach-like breasts. Mary Anne unfastened the last button and had started to rise when the Sheriff snapped, "Take it off her."
Woodenly, she did as instructed, then stood upright clutching the shirt in her hand. She gazed at the Sheriff whose eyes were fastened like a blood-sucking leech on the helpless loins of Sharon. His huge erection made it appear as though he were carrying an extremely large cucumber or banana inside his pants. Quickly, she turned her eyes away and was confronted by the same awesome bulge in the trousers of the smirking motel owner.
Mary Anne could hear the hoarse breathing from both of the men; she had heard the same noise once before when two of the neighborhood dogs had brought down a lost doe and-with the deer bleeding to death from a ripped throat-the hounds had stood there watching, panting, hoarsely breathing, before savagely attacking the wounded animal again, viciously shredding its still living flesh with their razor-sharp teeth.
"Lay down beside her," the Sheriff instructed.
You mustn't Mary Anne, her mind shouted at her. Let them do what they want to you, but don't help them anymore with Sharon. It's bad enough that you betrayed her whereabouts to them, but don't be a witting party to whatever it is they have in their evil perverted minds.
The indecision apparently showed on her face, for Tad Peabody reached out one big hand, cruelly grasped her hair close to the scalp, and twisted her face toward him. "I said," he repeated through clenched teeth, 'lay down beside her."
"You're hurting me," Mary Anne cried. This plea only made him tighten his grip and her face contorted in pain. "Stop! I'll do it. I'll... do... it," she sobbed.
"That's better." He watched as the girl, cringing and weeping, finally did as she was ordered. She lay face up on the bed, but kept a respectable distance between her and her friend.
"Now loss her," the Sheriff said, then added so there would be no mistake, "on the lips."
Mary Anne trembled violently in shame and fear. She had absolutely no idea what this horrible beast intended to do or what would be accomplished by kissing Sharon, but she was afraid to refuse his command. Obediently then, she turned on her side and softly touched lips with the petite brunette. Sharon moaned and her lips parted.
"French-kiss her. Pretend you and your boy friend are kissing. Go on... stick your tongue in her mouth."
Mortified at the strange request and knowing that her face was beet red from embarrassment, she timidly stuck her tongue between Sharon's parted lips. The little brunette hummed low in her throat and began a gentle sucking against the invader; this unconscious reaction surprised and disturbed Mary Anne because it was not a displeasing sensation. Even in her deeply drugged state, Sharon obviously found pleasure in the act for, without opening her eyes, she languidly raised her arms and put them around Mary Anne's neck, pulling her head down in closer contact. This accomplished, the petite brunette's hands began a slow brazen wandering over the other girl's shoulders and back, brushing lightly against the swelling flanks leading to the buttocks.
Both men exchanged knowing looks now that the action was beginning to heat up a bit, with Stan nodding with glee as he noticed Mary Anne squirm uncomfortably against Sharon's tender caress.
Tad grinned lewdly then said, "Kiss her titties.
Take the nipple in your mouth and tease it-bite it-with your teeth."
Mary Anne pulled her mouth away from Sharon's lips and looked up in mute appeal, now beginning to know precisely what these vile beasts had in mind. They weren't satisfied in mere rape, now they wanted her to participate in an act of perversion... so they could watch a performance of lesbian sex. She saw no mercy on the lawman's brutal face, only salacious expectation. When she paused for what seemed to be too long for him, he said simply. "You can do it of your own free will, or we can force you. But one way or the other, you're going to do everything I tell you to. Make it easy on yourself. Don't matter none to me." As he spoke, he removed his badge from his chest and fingered the three inch long pin used to fasten the star to the shirt. He added, almost as an after thought "you ever had one of these stuck in your pussy?"
Mary Anne had already suffered so much pain and humiliation that she believed implicitly he wouldn't hesitate a second to carry out his terrible threat. Rather than suffer any more, she would do anything they told her... no matter how revolting or repulsive. She fastened her mouth to the rubbery softness of her girl friend's right breast, tasting the sun-tan oil and the faint salinity of perspiration. Beneath her lips she felt the nipple hardening and growing, and as life grew in the nipple, a shiver of quickly suppressed excitement rippled through her. Almost without thinking about it, she teased breast and nipple with her tongue and teeth. Sharon's little moans of pleasure were becoming more obvious now, and there was increased response as the brunette seemed to be partially snapping out of her marijuana stupor.
Both men saw the smaller girl's hand travel down the front between their two nude bodies and begin fondling the blonde's big left breast. Mary Anne drew back at the touch, but the hand followed her, bringing with it a forbidden warm pleasure as it found and caressed her nipple. Sharon's shapely legs had begun an almost imperceptible opening and closing motion... as if she were slowly treading water.
Stan and the Sheriff were both in the process of removing their uniforms when Tad ordered, "Now turn around and straddle her face. Put your hot little pussy right down to her lips, and then you lick her cunt until I tell you to stop."
Tears of helpless shame began coursing down Mary Anne's face as she obediently turned and put her knees on both sides of Sharon's head. She looked up once more, hoping for reprieve, but saw only the ugly implacable look of lust on both men's faces. Even as she stared pitifully at them, the Sheriff dropped his pants and his huge cock jumped out like a tiger suddenly released from its leash.
Unable to face the sight, Mary Anne looked down into the inviting wide-spread cuntal opening of her unconscious friend. There, before her eyes and only inches away, the pouting pink lips of Sharon's vagina awaited. Already they shone with a myriad of tiny silver lights as sexual excite-merit-engendered by the kissing and oral manipulation of the breasts, and further magnified by the marijuana's uncertain sensual effects-caused the cuntal lubricant to begin seeping in preparation of love-making.
Without previous warning, behind her she heard a low guttural moan from her girl friend and felt the older girl's arms wrap themselves around her waist. Before she knew what was happening her hips were being impatiently pulled down toward the petite brunette's hot and suddenly voracious mouth. With the first electric contact between tongue and her vagina, Mary Anne moaned in despair-attempting to fight the sensation, as if denying the pleasure would make the intense feeling go away. Instead of disappearing, however, the forbidden excitement and joy built up in intensity.
"God damn, look at that little girl go," Tad said reverently as he watched Sharon's quivering tongue eagerly slithering like a side-winder along the entire cuntal cleft.
Stan, feeling an arousement he hadn't felt in months, grinned his agreement, and switched his attention to Mary Anne's face. The blonde was about to go out of her mind already. She obviously dug this tongue-fucking; it seemed only a matter of seconds before she joined in whole-heartedly. And he was right, for even as his mind formulated the thought, Mary Anne groaned once in defeat and ecstasy and, with a low moan of lust, buried her face in the mass of softly succulent female flesh. Her tongue sought and captured Sharon's elusive little clitoris and brought the tingling nerve ends to pulsating erectness.
Mary Anne's nostrils' were filled with her girl friend's cuntal essence and her mouth was filled with the wildly exhilarating taste of her vagina. Forgetting the untenable situation, ignoring the two men, Mary Anne gave in to her own passions and began working in earnest-feeling a desperate need to repay Sharon in some way for the pleasure the brunette's tongue and lips were bringing her' loins. Jolt after jolt of excitement and delight shot through her entire body, and the sensations built... built... and grew in ecstatic intensity until they reached a point of rapture where Mary Anne felt she had to orgasm or die. She began digging deeper into the warm, sweet, moist vaginal cavity with her tongue, and her head bobbed up and down with increasing urgency as if signaling the other girl to go faster and deeper herself. Sharon's frantic movements made it apparent that she, too, was almost there. Mentally and physically Mary Anne reached for the climax and actually could feel the first tremulous beginnings of it when, with the suddenness of an earthquake, she felt a pair of burly arms wrap themselves around her hips and pull her away from the tantalizing, tormenting tongue of delight.
"Wha... what?" she panted, hanging head down and feeling a cold sterile aching void in her vagina where a moment before Sharon's feverish mouth had been bringing life and a wild wanton music.
Stan was holding Mary Anne's body like a rug bent in the middle; he simply walked over to the other bed and dropped her where she lay, stunned by the unexpectedness of what had happened. From the adjoining bed, she heard a shrill, bird-like cry of fear from the now almost fully-conscious Sharon who had just opened her eyes for the first time and was confronted by the petrifying sight of two nude, beefy strangers both leering lustfully down at her nakedness.
Mary Anne heard Sharon's silent struggle as the girl sought to get out of bed, but Sheriff Peabody was too fast for her. He literally fell on her, his weight crushing the breath right out of her naked body. His hot mouth closed down over hers as though he were attempting to suck the very life out of her fear constricted throat.
Stan watched unhappily as he saw the other man's knees insinuating themselves between the little brunette's tightly closed thighs, prying them apart and opening up the passageway to her cunt. Finally he could contain his anger no longer. He tapped the Sheriff smartly on his bare ass. "Hey. Tad! I want to talk to you 'bout something."
The Sheriff took his mouth away from Sharon's and had begun a retort when the little brunette took a deep breath and screamed. Tad's open hand simply covered her face, and Mary Anne could see his fingers digging painfully into her friend's forehead and into the soft flesh beneath the chin. The only sound that came from Sharon now was an inarticulate muttering.
Stan continued. "I ain't going to take seconds this time. It's my turn to fuck the cunt first."
Tad could hardly believe his ears. A sense of blood-red outrage had started sweeping over him when he abruptly remembered he was, after all,. Stan's guest and that this was the other man's house. "Ah, now... Stan... " he began wheedling. "Why you want to spoil the party? Here I been thinking how hospitable you were by giving me first crack at the snatch...
"I don't care. I'd like to try an unslopped up hole for once."
Tad looked thoughtful, then grinned. "Ain't anything more dry than this girl's little old asshole. Why... you know? I bet you'd even get a cherry that way."
Sharon's renewed struggling indicated to Mary Anne that the other girl was! aware that the two men were fighting over her like two dogs over a bone. She had never heard anything so lewd or horrible in her life. Surely they must be kidding; the whole thing was too insanely perverted to be the truth. But even as she was thinking this, she saw the sudden ugly look of anticipation and a nod of assent from the deputy. The evil monster actually looked as if he were pleased with the idea.
Tad laughed crudely and said, "Attaboy. We'll both fuck her at the same time." Then he took his hand away from Sharon's face. She immediately took a deep breath in anticipation of screaming, and the Sheriff put his hand around her throat, squeezing her until her face turned almost purple and her neck turned a fish-belly white. "Look," he snarled viciously. "I'm going to tell you this once, and once only. You're nothing but a sexual dee-vee-ate as far as I'm concerned. I seen you eating your friend's pussy and relishing it just like it was county fair blue-ribbon piccalilli. Earlier tonight, in case you don't remember, we caught you having illegal sexual intercourse with a boy in another room and smoking marijuana.
"Now you can do as I say... or go to jail. If I throw you in jail, you're going to find yourself in real trouble because I got two nigger lesbians-both butch dykes about 200 pounds each-locked up in the women's section. They're mean, both of them are in there for slicing another lesbian's tit off with a razor. You cooperate with me. Hear now. You hear!" He tightened his grip on her throat and shook her like a bulldog shakes a rat. "Cooperate when I fuck you-give me a little action out of that nice little pussy of yours and I'll treat you nice and let you go. If you don't cooperate, so help me God I'll still fuck you, but when I'm through with you, I'll toss your ass to the lesbians and you can scream your fucking head off for 72 hours before I come back to see what's going on. I can be awfully hard of hearing sometimes."
Even Mary Anne was trembling in fear when he cautiously removed his hand from Sharon's face. The little brunette was suddenly weeping tears of fright and pain. She turned her head and stared beseechingly at Mary Anne. "Help me," she pled. Stan's coarse laughter had a ring of sadistic glee to it "Sheeet, honey. She ain't about to help you; she's the one who told us where we could find you... so we all could have this fine old party here tonight. Don't worry. As high as you are, you'll love it. You'll never forget the fucking we're going to give you... you'll still be bragging about it fifty years from now. Ask your blonde lil' girl friend here, shell tell you how happy we made her."
Mary Anne had to close her eyes and turn her head away from the hurt accusing expression on Sharon's face. The blonde had begun weeping herself, tormented by her own lack of courage and by the gross act of betrayal. It was sheer cowardice on her part, and she knew that never again would she be able to stare at herself in the mirror without remembering this moment or that look from her friend.
When Sharon made no immediate outcry, Tad relaxed and breathed, "That's better. You just continue to cooperate, little girl... and I promise you'll enjoy the fucking we give you. Now open your thighs," he commanded, a cruel, unyielding glint sparkling lewdly in his eyes.
Mary Anne held her breath as the frightened girl obediently spread her legs apart a few more inches. Tears of shame coursed down her girl friend's cheeks.
"Come on," Stan crooned, an excited grin on his face. "You can do better than that. Let's have a look-see at that pretty lil' cunt." He pulled at her knee and Sharon's thighs were spread wider. The Sheriff lost patience and used his knees to force them sharply apart, bringing a terrified whimper from the trembling girl. Now the entire cuntal cleft was exposed in all its glory to both men's leering eyes, and their lascivious hot expressions of lust was the most evil thing Mary Anne had ever witnessed.
"God damn... ," Tad Peabody said with awe as the soft raw flesh of her vagina came into view. "Just look at that, Stan. Just look at that purty pink little pussy! I'm really going to enjoy fucking that, even if it does seem like a violation of the pure food act to stick a pecker into it. What's the asshole look like?"
"Well... considering it's burrowed about ten inches deep into the mattress at the moment, I really can't tell you," the motel owner replied good-naturedly. "I thought I'd let you sort of slip that measly little peashooter of yours into the cunt and then ask you to roll her over so I can have a shot at it."
Mary Anne listened and watched this lewd humiliation of Sharon with conflicting emotions. Over-riding her own shame and pity for the abject helplessness of her young girl friend was the undeniable fact that this salacious spectacle was beginning to excite her. There was something terribly fascinating, stimulating, about seeing poor Sharon lying there with her legs apart and probably feeling more naked and ashamed than she had ever felt in her life. The brunette wasn't even trying to stem the flood of tears that flowed down both sides of her face and soaked the pillow. She was powerless as the two vile creatures casually discussed what they were going to do with her, forced to accept their crude caresses and horrible suggestions without resistance.
"Five'll get you ten that she's a hot little fuck too," Tad Peabody said, reaching forward and running his middle finger up the tightly closed vaginal slit, parting the softly curling strands of pubic hair and feeling the smooth, moist, pink succulence squirming against his sudden obscene contact. He dug it slightly into her vaginal opening and felt her shiver in revulsion from the unwanted sensation. His vile laughter boomed out and it was joined by Stan's ugly chortle.
Mary Anne could feel the pit of her belly tighten, her thighs clench of their own accord, and her vagina twitching hotly and moistly as the two men began using their hands and fingers on Sharon's breasts and body cavities. She was completely open to them. The Sheriff had drawn one of her 'legs up over his hips on one side now, and the deputy had lain down beside them and drawn the other up over his, so that the poor girl was lying with her knees up in the air, thighs wide apart, defenseless and incapable of protecting herself, with her pussy open and bared for all the world to see.
The Sheriff now worked at her vagina with sure fingers, slowly and expertly insinuating them into the moist fleshy layers, obviously hurting her at first because she gasped with pain and bit her lips to keep from crying out. Then he slid his other hand up under her buttocks and drew them up tight against the hand in her cunt. "She's starting to leak a little," he said proudly, "getting wet."
Stan looked up from the nipple he had been gnawing on. "Is she ready to fuck yet?"
"In a minute or two," the Sheriff answered, breathing heavily. "She's really starting to open up down there deep. Her pussy lips even tried to nibble at my fingers-a second ago... sort of like it wanted to shake hands with me."
Stan returned to his earlier labors with his hungry mouth fastening on her nipple. He, too, had been pretty sure she was almost ready for Sharon had begun making small mewls of half protest and half pleading each time he rolled the nipple between his teeth and tightly compressed lower lip.
As Mary Anne watched with growing excitement, she saw Stan suddenly shove the Sheriff's hand away from Sharon's buttocks. A moment later the helpless girl groaned loudly as the motel owner's blunt middle finger began probing at the tight little rectal opening. There was another groan, louder this time, as the finger popped into the opening all the way up to the second joint. The impact of what was about to happen right there before her eyes caused a sudden heated rise of passion in Mary Anne's body. She found herself holding her breath, waiting almost impatiently-like a first nighter audience awaiting the opening curtain-for the cruel ravishment to begin. Sharon was obviously so overcome by shame and humiliation that she no longer was capable of offering even token resistance; she would let them do anything they wanted to do with her now thanks to the Sheriff's terrible threat to jail her with those two negro lesbians. The excitement became almost more than Mary Anne could tolerate as the obscene thought of the depraved unnatural despoilment about to take place within a few inches of her own face brought a low groan bubbling from her suddenly passion constricted throat.
Tad Peabody finally withdrew his fingers from Sharon's widely expanded and now completely lubricated vagina.
Stan glanced up and silently nodded his understanding. "Turn her over," he hissed, and the Sheriff reached out with his two ham-like hands and caught her by the shoulders, twisting her around so that she was lying face down on the mattress with two pillows shoved under her abdomen. The little brunette lay there weeping, with raised buttocks quivering from her deep sobs of shame and humiliation.
The motel owner got out of bed and stood by the edge of the mattress. His monstrous cock, long, rigid and white, stood out proudly in front of him. Thin blue veins-like the faint lines in marble-pulsated with each beat of his heart. "All right you," he growled to Mary Anne, "come over here. You can help me put it in your friend's asshole."
Mary Anne stifled the protest that had bubbled to her lips when she saw the Sheriff staring speculatively at her, daring her to say one little thing. Obediently, trembling with a certain amount of fear and something else vaguely akin to excitement, she stood beside the deputy.
"Hold my cock for me," he demanded.
Mary Anne reached out one shaking hand and her fingers enclosed the hot throbbing cudgel of flesh and blood and life. Involuntarily, her fingers tightened themselves around his prick and she felt his powerful pulse beating through the length of it. It was only when he made a small groan of delight deep in his. throat that she realized she had not only squeezed it, but had made a gentle tentative little stroking motion. She gazed down at the turgid shaft, remembering the earlier unwanted pleasure it had brought her, and with a sudden sense of shame knew that she would not mind at all having it back inside her again. But as she thought this, she was becoming aware of the anatomical impossibility of what the motel owner and the Sheriff were suggesting. This long, thick, hard thing would never fit into Sharon's poor little rectum. God, he would kill her! No woman could take a thing like that in her anus, she would be split in half.
Mary Anne held onto his prick when he stooped and grabbed both of the weeping girl's ankles and harshly pulled apart her rigid legs.
"Please... oh, no... don't," Sharon pled tearfully. "Not that way." She suddenly began twisting and attempted to rise, but was pinned down by the Sheriff's muscular arm. "Help me, Mary Anne... please," she cried.
"Hold her, hold her," Stan growled, and Tad simply pressed down hard into the small of her back, forcing her into the mattress again. She struggled for another moment before collapsing with her body shaking and pitiful pleas bubbling unheard from her throat.
Mary Anne herself moaned as the motel owner began running his hands greedily over the long, firm muscles of her young girl friend's shapely calves and up the inside of her thighs to the damp, moist cleft that ran up between her legs. Stan leered down at the cringing girl and slowly, dramatically, drew aside the firm white mounds of her buttocks. Sharon groaned in a futile effort to clench them back together again, but the deputy merely gouged his fingernails deep into the soft warm flesh and, rather than suffer any more, the poor girl forced herself to relax and let him spread them as far as he wished.
Mary Anne heard both men suck in their breaths as the puckered little brown ring came into view. Stan pushed one hand down and once more thrust his middle finger into it as Sharon writhed and wept at this unholy invasion. She ground her pelvis deep into the mattress and clenched her buttocks, but the tiny opening was already used to the finger and it accepted the intruder readily. The digit sank in all the way to the hilt. Sharon groaned loudly and, in piteous submission, became limp as he scoured mercilessly into her tiny puckered anus with his finger, widening and preparing it for his prick. Simultaneously, he began thrusting his pelvis against Mary Anne's closed fist, and she could feel the hard gristle, the veins, the muscles all moving powerfully beneath the scruff-like skin of his prick. Then, with a slight plop, he pulled his finger from the helpless girl's rectum and told Mary Anne, "Okay... now you can put it in for me."
Sharon stifled a cry and involuntarily clenched her muscle as she abruptly realized the part Mary Anne was to play in the perverted rape of her defenseless young asshole.
Stan opened the brunette's buttocks wide again with his thumbs and then leaned forward and deposited a large drop of spittle from his lips to act as a further lubricant. Nodding his readiness, he watched as Mary Anne placed the monstrous throbbing head of his prick against the tiny wet hole. She found herself reluctant to let go of it, but did so when he said, "Stand back."
Then, with hands cruelly tight on Sharon's hip bones-holding her motionless and captive-Stan pressed his rock hard shaft straight into the tightly clenched orifice of her ass.
Tad Peabody held his breath for what seemed to be an eternity before his face lit up in a lewd grin as he saw the unrelenting staff pop suddenly through the tight restricting anal ring. "Go to it, boy," he growled, as Stan thrust hips harshly forward again sinking his rod halfway to the hilt. Sharon squealed in pain, the sound muffled by the pillow pressing into her face, and beat her legs on either side of him in a futile effort to escape the cruel impalement. Her buttocks bucked and twisted beneath him as she attempted to dislodge the hot fleshy spear from her back passage but the struggles-instead of gaining freedom-only made her position worse, for each twist of her body caused his cock to skewer even deeper into the tightly resisting anus.
"Ohhhhh... aaaaggghhhh," she screamed and then her back muscles simply gave up the fight and, with all resistance gone, Stan's huge white rod slipped unimpeded into the warm rubbery depths of her rectum.
"Man... that is the tightest asshole I've been into for a long time," Stan groaned aloud, his face grimacing in pain as he gritted his teeth and made several short strokes into her, each thrust bringing a cry of pained protest and humiliation from the helpless girl.
Beside the obscenely coupled pair, the Sheriff was beginning to look impatient. He ran his hands over Sharon's breasts, shoulders and back, and his mammoth cock jerked eagerly with each beat of his heart. "Come on," he growled, "turn her over. Let me have a piece of the action."
Stan simply stood up straight lifting the young teenager's naked body up in the air, before he turned around and eased his own buttocks on the mattress; then, still skewered up to the hilt in her helplessly clenched rectum, he lay down on the mattress with the girl lying full length on her back tight against his stomach and chest. Her legs were splayed out limply on the outside of his knees, and a continuous pleading moan dribbled piteously from her tightly compressed lips.
Mary Anne could see the massive trunk of his huge cock, could see his hairy testicles looking an angry red as they lay in sharp contrast against the pure whiteness of the sheet. She saw Sharon's moistly shining cuntal lips opening and closing like a pink and brown sea anemone with each shuddering breath the brunette took.
Tad Peabody swung into action almost immediately.
He moved up like a scuttling crab between the young girl's outspread legs, straddling Stan's knees, and levered the girl's legs even further apart. He glanced over toward Mary Anne. "You know what to do, cunt," he snarled, nodding down at his hard aching shaft.
Mary Anne wanted to fight his command, but she was powerless. She knew instinctively that she wanted to participate in this lewd orgy, she had to be a part and partner in it. She put out her hand for his prick and as her fingers enclosed it she felt a jolt of pleasure shoot through her fingertips, through her hand, up her arm, and into her body where the sensation scattered like fireflies throughout her abdomen. Once, she had held a huge length of salami in her hand, and it had felt something like this... only without the heat, the beat, the life of this beautiful instrument. Automatically-knowing it would give him pleasure-she pulled on the outer layer of flesh and saw the warm, velvety foreskin-like incredibly rich suede-peel back from the heavy mushroom head.
With trembling fingers, she guided the hardness without further delay toward Sharon's wide open vagina. She placed the head of the throbbing cudgel at the fearfully pulsating mouth of her girl friend's nakedly defenseless cunt. Then-without being asked-she reached forward with the thumb and forefinger of her other hand and spread the sparsely hair-lined lips apart. Sharon's piteous moan became a long low howl of pain as Tad Peabody shoved his hips forward and the cock-like a long white whale in a crash dive-slipped into the moist warm depths of her pussy.
"Aaaaaagggghhhh," Sharon cried as it slithered down, down, down into the deepest parts of her belly, joining Stan's prick already entombed there in her painfully stretched rectum.
Mary Anne, eyes glittering with unnatural lust, excitedly watched as her helpless girl friend lay moaning and sobbing from the pain and shame, sandwiched between the two men, impaled between their cocks like a chicken on a barbecue spit, with only the thin membrane between rectum and vagina separating the two skewering lengths of their penises.
Almost at once the Sheriff began to eagerly fuck into the warm, damp pussy, while Stan started bucking up with long hard strokes into the rubbery heat of her widely stretched young rectum. Within seconds they had established a mutual rhythm, buffeting Sharon's petite, teenage body between them as though they were cooperating with a hula hoop that had to be kept in motion. She had begun wailing, a low almost uninterrupted sound like that of the hot Sirocco winds shrieking through a drain pipe, as they smacked into her body with ever increasing force.
Mary Anne could not tear her eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of the copulating trio. She could feel a vicious fire burning within her own loins, and-without realizing what she was doing, wanting only relief-her hand, with fingers extended, reached down to her own cunt and began rubbing in and out along the fevered, love-starved pussy lips. She moaned herself, a sound of unfulfillment... a cat locked inside on a moonlit night feeling the feral heat of blood desire. Never taking her hands from her own pussy, the blonde girl waddled over to the end of the bed where she could stare at the heart and pit of the action.
There she could see the Sheriff's buttocks rising and falling like a bobbing white cork float as he plummeted into and yanked out of the hideously stretched vagina. She watched as the two thick cudgels skewered into Sharon's wide-stretched loins like white twin piston rods working in unison on a high performance engine. Her hot, excitedly glittering eyes watched the long moist cocks-wet and shining their entire lengths from the cuntal lubricant-fucking in and out, in and out, in and out. She could see the ragged pink and red edges of her girlfriend's cunt drawing back with the Sheriffs prick on the outstroke and disappearing back inside as the penis slammed forward again deep into her womb. The same sight could be seen with the little brown opening of her widespread rectum as the motel owner pounded up and into her with a maniacal fury that was frightening.
Mary Anne's mind was swirling in a boiling maelstrom of hot desire and powerful sensual awareness. She never really knew the exact instant that she, too, clambered up on the bed and straddled the back of Sheriff Peabody's one leg. Then came the wonderfully delicious sensation as she began frantically rubbing her feverishly slippery, vaginal lips back and forth on the back of his muscular hairy calf.
In front of her, she heard Sharon's low whimpering moans of pain gradually change to mewls of pleasure and passionate pleading. Mary Anne saw the girl's hips beginning to rise and fall-like a powerful tide-eagerly meeting each vicious, wonderful thrust with tiny abandoned circular motions of her buttocks.
Wilder and wilder the action grew between the three, and Sharon's voice changed once more to wonderment as she sought to capture the promise what was the beginning of a monumental orgasm. "Oooohhh, ohhhhh... God! So goooo-oooddd," the petite brunette crooned, then stiffened and cried, "Aaaahhh! Aahhh? Keep going... keep going... don't stop. Ahhh. God... god... god! Aaaaaggghh... Aiiiiieeee... I'M CUMMING... I'M CUMMING!" Her body shuddered once convulsively, and then she seemed to go completely out of her mind with screaming desire as she writhed and bucked, grinding her now hotly accepting pussy up against the rampaging cock and grinding her asshole down onto the rigid unbending penis fucking up into her from below.
Mary Anne, feeling the unmistakable approach of her own self-induced climax, began insanely scraping her flooding young cunt against the Sheriff's calf and watched in wide-eyed wonderment as Sharon sobbed out a never-ending orgasm that seemed to go on and on, never to stop.
The men, knowing now they had conquered the minds, body, and spirit of both girls, simultaneously drove their cocks deeply inward and embedded the wildly ejaculating pricks as far as humanly possible into Sharon's pussy and rectum. Their hot eager sperm spewed and spurted like powerful underground geysers deep into the hidden recesses of her heaving belly at almost the precise instant that Mary Anne's long sought-after climax caused her to collapse weakly into the pile of other perspiration soaked satiated bodies...
Ten minutes later, both men used their resurrected pricks at the same time in Mary Anne's no longer reluctant body while a giggling and playful Sharon assisted, and then they all four fucked and fucked until both girls passed out into a hazy state of sexual exhaustion which rendered them unconscious...
CHAPTER NINE
They awoke, an hour or so later, to the loud and angry sound of many male voices. Mary Anne gasped and sat up, blinking in fright, then yanked a sheet up to cover Sharon's and her nakedness. There were seven strange men in the room-six of them were wearing State trooper uniforms; and one, who seemed to be in charge, was dressed in a business suit. Together in a corner, a crestfallen and apparently badly scared Sheriff Peabody and Stan were in the process of putting on their own uniforms. Even as she watched, fearful and uncomprehending, she saw a State patrolman locking handcuffs on the Sheriff's wrists. A moment later, the motel owner's wrists were enclosed in handcuffs, as well.
The man in the business suit looked down at a card in his hand and made a formal announcement as required by law. "Sheriff Peabody, it is my duty to inform you that you are under arrest for the murder of a young prisoner under your care, Peter Watson. Sheriff Peabody and Mr. Rogers, you both have been charged and are being arrested for contributing to the delinquency of minors: specifically, one Miss Jolene Keen, who was falsely imprisoned at the Pistola Beach jail from November 3rd to December 13th of last year. These two young ladies here will be listed as additional victims in an amended complaint. By, law, I must advise you that you both have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask any questions and to have him with you during all questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish." Finished with the official pronouncement, he jerked his head toward the door. "Get them out of here." His voice was tight with anger and a look of intense disgust was on his face when he added, "Thank God there aren't too many people like you left in law enforcement anymore, Sheriff Peabody. You're nothing but vermin. You've betrayed your office, your constituents, and your profession. When we received the transcript of Miss Jolene Keen's sworn testimony before the New Orleans Welfare Board, we immediately took the matter before the Grand Jury. You were secretly indicted last Friday afternoon. You might be interested to know that she applied for welfare relief because she is pregnant either by you or Rogers or by one of the two dozen men you brought to her cell. It was my office's decision to hold off service of the warrant until after Hell Week here in Pistola Beach. And now I wish to God we had not waited. To my dying day I will feel that my office was, in some way, also responsible for young Watson's death. If we had immediately put you and your friend here where you belong, the boy would be alive today, and these two girls would not have been soiled by coming into contact with filth like you."
Both Tad Peabody and the motel owner had opened their mouths in protest, but they shut up after one look at the expressions of disgust and anger on the faces of all of the uniformed patrolmen. Mary Anne watched silently as the subdued Sheriff and Stan were led from the room by the State troopers. The two men did not say a single thing, but she noted they both-within the last sixty seconds-seemed to have shriveled in stature; they looked defeated... impotent without their guns and badges.
Finally, only the man from the State Attorney General's office was left in the room with them. He tried to smile, but it was painfully obvious that it was an effort. He seemed ill at ease, embarrassed. Mary Anne wondered how much of the orgy he had witnessed; she couldn't tell what he thought about them.
Almost as if sensing her questions, he said, "The boy died in his cell three hours ago; before the doctor arrived. One of my investigators heard about it and telephoned me at home. We came looking for Sheriff Peabody because we have a sworn statement from his night jailor that it was the Sheriff who kicked the boy to death. When we got to the motel here, we were handed some photographs by the night clerk." He paused, blushing. "He took photographs of everything they made you do because he felt it was time someone did something about the situation. The pictures are evidence and will have to be submitted in court, unless they plead guilty... which I doubt they will do."
"Oh, God! Not in court! What... what's going to happen to me?" Sharon wailed, her eyes wide in fear, lips trembling like those of a small child afraid of punishment.
"I'm sorry, the two of you will have to stay at Juvenile Hall until we get your parents down here."
Sharon immediately began caterwauling. "No! You can't! It wasn't my fault. I didn't want to do it. Tell him, Mary Anne. Tell him!"
Mary Anne at first was stunned, feeling only a black tidal wave of despair sweeping over her. Then, abruptly, she realized that there really was no alternative, their parents had to be notified... and all the pleading and weeping in the world couldn't or wouldn't change that, or the fact that twelve honest, law-abiding citizens on the jury would be able to see everything they had done. On the heels of this she began to know-with a sureness born of approaching maturity-that everything that had happened to her had come about because she had permitted herself to be used by someone else in a lie and then simply did not have the moral or physical courage to stand up to her own principles and beliefs.
"You'd better get dressed now," the man said quietly, then went out, closing the door behind him.
Sharon said, through loud sobs of self-pity, "My parents will kill me."
Only then did Mary Anne feel like weeping herself. Her parents wouldn't kill her, but the news of how she had betrayed herself and deceived them would almost kill them. "Faith is Humpty Dumpty's egg"; she thought, "once it's broken, no one can ever put it back together again."
Unimaginable things had happened to her during the last few hours. She knew she would never be the same again; that-in reality-nothing could ever be the same again. She had experienced an insight into herself and her motives and-unlike the overwhelming majority of women two and even three times her age-she already knew the very best and the very worst about her body and its most hidden secret desires.
She waited patiently until the loudly wailing older girl had completed dressing. Then, dry-eyed, opened the door and-head high and unflinching-led the way past the blinding flashbulbs of two news photographers and through the gang of gawking, curious, teen-age vacationers toward the waiting police car.
