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AbductedBy4
               Perhaps it's true that we women don't understand
ourselves, but only know what we're told and taught, what we learn by
first hand observation and personal experience, and what we glean from
the whisperings of that mysterious primordial memory known variously as
instinct, intuition or premonition.

     Female sexual response (action and reaction) ranges from ho- hum to
wow, from "Let's get it over with," to "Let's have some more;" from
quiet frigidity to insatiable lust.  For most of us, the whole thing
runs in cycles:  Cool today, but warmer tomorrow.  Insatiable?  Who
knows if or when.

     Ann Edwards, in her book, Vivien Leigh: A Biography, reveals the
the ardent star of "Gone With The Wind" was often sexually voracious and
unrestrained, that is, at times she just couldn't get enough sex.  She
was a nymphomaniac.  In fact, her personal physician, Dr. Arthur Conach,
insisted Ms. Leigh carry a medical report when she traveled which
warned:  "She develops marked increase in libido and indiscriminate
sexual activity.  Her symptoms, particularly her overt sexuality, loss
of judgement and over-drive, make me feel that her manic phase is much
more undesirable than her depressed phase."  She was a manic depressive,
and a true nymphomaniac.

     Dr. Conach said that on a regular basis, Ms. Leigh became sexually
ravenous and threw caution to the winds while indulging her glutonous
sexual appetite, used no judgement or discretion; cared nothing for
appearances or what others might think, and fed her raw lust with
uninhibited copulation.

     Edwards relates one of Ms. Leigh's out-of-control episodes at a
Hollywood party:  She invited almost every man there to meet her in an
empty bedroom where many of them had sex with her.  By 3 in the morning,
the men had gotten all they wanted, but Ms. Leigh was on the bed begging
the four or five men still in the room: "Please, please, one of you fuck
me just one more time."

     Most of us realize that rape fantasies are not uncommon, but only
with the big IF...it's ONLY a fantasy!  We  definitely do not hope for
real life rape.  We're terrified at the thought that we may be the
target of a real rapist, and most of us agree that being forced is only
attractive in the first place because we think we're guiltless if forced
to have sex and therefore blameless, but in reality, fear of actual rape
outweighs all of that.

     Somewhere between Ms. Leigh and rape fantasy there is a mysterious
force we seldom recognize. It has to do with our libido, our getting
hot, smacking wet, turned-on, or whatever.  It can grab the unwary if we
dare pass the point of no return.  And once this strong sex current
starts, our motor spins faster and faster.  Dizzily, we lose control. 
Ravenous lust replaces lady-like caution.  It controls us!  Any one of
us, in the right setting, can be a Cinderella nympho.  As Patty Hearst
says, psychiatrists do NOT understand what really makes us tick.


                        IN THE BEGINNING

For Dr. Josiah:

     I sincerely hope I'm capable of writing out a moment-by- moment
journal as you asked me to.  Well, here in excruciating detail is the
whole story and every single thought or feeling I can remember.  Day One
began rather early, as you can see:

     I reached out sleepily, groping for the jarring clang of the alarm
clock.   It was still hot in the house, making my gown cling to me like
a spent lover.  Memories of making love to Bill last night lingered in
my mind, he stirred slightly and continued in deep sleep as I felt my
way into the bathroom.  I didn't want to awaken him on Saturday, the
only day of the week he could sleep in.  But, hell, why I should be so
considerate.  

     Most folks think Bill is a nice man, but living with him is very
frustrating.  He takes me for granted, and he'd raise holy unmitigated
hell if I hung out late with the girls like he does with the boys.  I'm
crazy for staying with him...an easy lay when he wants it.  IF he wants
it. 

      The shower teased my warm body with probing needles of pleasure;
my nostrils flared like a filly in heat and I shivered at remembered
matings with a high school lad as I toweled off.  I wanted nothing more
than to linger in bed, but alas, I couldn't.  It was time for the
writing struggle to begin! 

     I slipped into a front-button yellow cotton blouse and a light
denim tennis skirt, not bothering with panties or bra because it's more
comfortable that way for writing.  Chill air spilled out onto my bare
feet when I pulled open the fridge door.  Darn!  No milk.  There was
nothing for it but to go to the store.  I looked critically at my
nipples visible under the sheer blouse, decided to wear a light jacket,
and headed for the garage.  I took Bill's station wagon instead of the
neat little yellow Camaro I usually drove.  At age 27, it was good to be
alive.  I sucked fresh air into my lungs, appreciating the sweet smell
of the flowers in the quiet darkness.  My watch indicated 5:30 a.m. when
I pulled to a stop in 7-Eleven's parking lot.  Dawn had not yet filled
our town with light. 

     I had no way of knowing that Kevin, the man I almost married, was
still insanely jealous...still determined to have me at all costs,
although I had been married to Bill for three years.  I would learn that
"insane" jealousy was just that, and that Kevin was orchestrating
something worse than murder.  
                        =+=

     The four of them took me as I was leaving the 7-Eleven store with
my milk.  Their van was parked next to Bill's station wagon.  The side
door of the van slid open and they pulled me in and drove away, acting
so quickly that we were speeding down the street before I realized what
was happening.  Then, it was too late.  I was terrified, but helpless. 
One of them kept saying I'd be sorry if I screamed or attracted
attention.  In less than five minutes the van pulled into a garage 
where they took me through a connecting door into a house.  I have never
been so frightened.  They warned me again about making any noise and I
did quit whimpering and crying because I realized I was in the same
position as a kid about to be spanked for not shutting up. 

     I had seen one of the boys somewhere before, the youngest one, but
I couldn't remember where.  He couldn't have been a day over
fourteen...possibly fifteen.  When I began to calm down a bit I took a
closer look.  He had those eyes, just like Tom Selleck, brown bombs with
mercury lamps behind them.  He had a smile that made Tom Cruz look like
Peewee McNitt.  I heard one of the others call him Mark.  He was just a
kid.

     Another boy was tall and slender and looked to be about
twenty-two.  One of them, the leader, was about my age.  He was muscular
and nice looking - reddish brown hair, greenish blue eyes...nice
looking, indeed.  More surprising still, the forth fellow was much
older, but he, too, did not look like your everyday rapist.  From the
conversation the next few minutes I figured that Mark, the young one,
had evidently been spying on me, because he knew all about my passion in
bed, including my moans, thrashing about, etc.  I'm what Bill calls a
"frantic screamer."  They joked about how easy it was going to be to
"get my motor running."  

Of course, my old boy friend, Kevin, had planned the abduction.  I had
no way of knowing then that he was in the house watching me from his
hiding place in a closet.  Taking pictures.  Videotape.

     The house was well carpeted, but was empty.  Probably up for sale. 
A timeless mustiness like ancient knowledge hung in the stuffy air.  The
morning sun was just beginning to glare on the smudged windows when the
gleeful fellows made me stand in the center of the large, bare living
room.  I braced myself like an uncertain doe at bay before the drooling
hounds, my left hand holding my skimpy yellow blouse together above my
unfettered breasts.  I was shivering.  

     Without a word they all stripped off their clothes and turned their
eyes on me.  I remember thinking how different each looked down there,
each so different from the others.  They say that looking at nasty porn
pictures or just seeing a nude man does little to excite a woman, but
that's not always true.  This wasn't the first time my body reacted to
visual stimulis.  In fact, I had always felt a stirring when seeing a
bulging male crotch or nice looking ankles. 

     The 22-year-old boy was a carrot top, his pubic hair was aflame at
his crotch.  The older one was stocky, with greying hair and a beard to
match, deep hazel eyes and a friendly smile.  His white teeth flashed in
the morning sun when he spoke to me.  I remember seeing millions of tiny
particles floating in the sunbeams, and I realized they had deliberately
placed me to be spotlighted by the rising sun.  It began to get warmer
very quickly.  A rivilet of sweat ran down between my breasts.

"Nobody's gonna hurt you.  Nobody's gonna do anything you don't want. 
See?"  Soft, but very, very firm.  The good looking one's voice was
deep.  He stepped forward and removed my jacket and began to slowly
unbuttoned my blouse, letting the back of his hands brush against my
nipples.  I swallowed and tried to keep my breathing even and my body
still, but it was almost impossible to do.  He removed both my skirt and
blouse, leaving me completly nude.  Triumphantly, he called the boys'
attention to my lack of panties and bra.

     "See," he crowed, "She WANTED somebody to fuck her!" Then he
stepped back into his place in the circle of naked boys and men. 
Crazily, I thought they were going to do a circle-jerk like my husband
had told me boys sometimes participate in.  Each boy "jerks-off" the boy
next to him while being done in kind by the one on the other side, but a
that's not what they had in mind.

     They became very quiet, seeming to relish the air of excitement
hanging in the warm room.  Nobody said a word, and no matter which way I
looked there was a nude, randy male.  I felt twitches here and there
inside my belly.  Obviously, this nudity and total silence was
preplanned.  I was conscious of licking my lips as though I was about to
speak, and my inside thigh muscles knotted and flexed.  Minutes passed
without a sound.  In spite of all I could do my body was beginning to
sway in primitive rhythm, reacting to the raw sexual stimulis all around
me. 

     Somehow I knew I was in no danger at all other than I was going to
get screwed.  There was no doubt about that.  They weren't rough, just
eager, and had obviously planned to tease the situation for a while.  I
guess this sounds unladylike, but honestly, I don't know how my brain
was doing all of this processing, but I remember thinking that my terror
had turned into excitement of a strange unknown sort. 

     Finally, the older one spoke to the youngest, "Check 'er out,
Mark." 
     The fifteen-year-old glided up to me and let his hand slide down my
belly until his fingers were resting on my clitoris.  Searing currents
shot through my pelvis as he very slowly and deliberately entwined his
fingers in my bush.  It was impossible to remain perfectly motionless,
although the older one kept telling me over and over again not to move a
muscle.  All of them began to snicker as they observed the involuntary
movement of my pelvis and buttocks in response to the touch of the
youngster.

     God, this kid had the touch and poise of a sheik, and spoke like
one.  He cupped my breast in his hand and talked about it, how beautiful
it was.  He teased the nipple with the tip of his tongue and sucked it
gently.  He ran his slender fingers up and down my torso , lingering
here and there.  But the most shattering thing he did was to kneel and
lick the insides of my thighs.  My skin is soft and tender there, and
his touch left my legs weak.  The boy turned, grinning, and reported,
"She's about to cream."  My face went fiery red as he walked away. 

     Dad always told me that someday I would pay a price if I wasn't
careful...pay a price for being shapely and desirable if I didn't handle
it right.  

     The good looking one wiped his brow with his tanned forearm, and I
couldn't help noticing the beads of sweat glistening on his thick neck
and his rippling biceps.  His stomach muscles flexed, causing his rigid
cock to jerk, and I squirmed and breathed in ragged gasps.  I knew my
nipples were hard, and my face burning.

     Damn, what was the matter with me - reacting to not one, but four
men all at once?  I'm not promiscous.  I don't want even one strange
man.  All of these modern diseases scare the hell out of me.  I read in
women's magazines about all of us girls getting laid all of the time,
secret rendezvous with a handsome one-night stand who is on his way to
China and we know he'll never come and mess up our life.  Okay for
fantasy, but it isn't something I've really wanted.  It has occurred to
me - in case I ever did it - that the safest sex is with either the
young or the old because they're not likely to be infected.

     Now, the older one began telling me how much they were going to
enjoy fucking me.  He kept his hand on his swollen cock as he talked. 
"You'll love it," he said, "you'll love having all you want, but damnit,
you're going to beg for it...ask for it!" 


    I shook my head and swallowed.  I couldn't scream and I knew for
sure now that when I left this place it was going to be only after
having had sex with each of these four determined males.     "You've had
enough of standing alone," the older one said,   "and you want us all
touching you, don't you?"  Something outside of myself made me nod. 
God, what am I doing!  "Please get down on the floor..on your back," he
directed.  I obeyed. 

     All four of them knelt around me.  One was teasing my face and lips
with his tongue, two of them were tonguing my nipples, and the forth was
gently licking my clitoris.  All of the sensations were driving me out
of my mind.  Never have I ever had so many different fantastic things
happening to my body all at once.  There was no way I could concentrate
on one or refuse to feel another. 

     These fellows were lovingly carressing all of my most secret
places.  The sensations were incredible. 
     "You're tongue loves to feel my tongue, right?" 
     "Your clit loves my tongue." 
     One of them took my hand and placed it around his steel-hard
throbbing cock.  "You'd come if that was inside of your cunt, wouldn't
you?"  I jerked my burning hand away.

     Ignoring the hundreds of pleasures racing through my body was
impossible.  I tried to think of something else, anything.  I thought of
Bill.  He'd love to see something like this as long as the woman was NOT
me!  I couldn't force my mind away from what was going on - I tried to
concentrate on how much I wanted to escape from here - but then the
young one, Mark, would flick my clit with the tip of his wet tongue. 

     I squirmed and fought a losing battle.  In spite of everything I
could do I felt a massive orgasm building within me, and as it shook my
body like an earthquake, Mark climbed between my legs and slowly slid
his stiff cock into me.  Once inside, he held perfectly still, getting a
good feel of the spasms sweeping through my vagina.

     I was sweating.  My neck felt hot and my hair was damply plastered
to my shoulders.  When I closed my eyes it seemed my vagina was the
largest part of my body, that it was all of me, and still growing by the
minute.  I remember thinking I was so grateful for the good kind of
loving I was getting.  Then my legs began to tremble, my pelvis lifted
itself off of the floor as if out of control.  The last thing I wanted
to do was say dirty words to them.  But then I said them.  I heard a
dry, croaking voice say, "Fuck me", at first in a low growl, then a
whisper, then loud, "Please fuck me," and I knew it was me speaking. 
This couldn't be happening to me!  

     The fellow my age began to describe what he was seeing like a
play-by-play footbal announcer.  
     "They've got her legs apart, there's a smacking sound as the big
cock pumps in and out.  Now (excitedly) she's lifting her ass up to meet
him and her legs are locked around him.  She wants to be fucked!"  God,
it was doing something to me to hear somebody else talking about what I
was doing and feeling.  

     "Stay still," young Mark said, "Don't move.  Just feel me fucking
you and feel the boys kissing your nipples.  Feel their tongues.  Feel
us loving you deeply, deeply, deeply.  Feel my cock in your cunt fucking
you."  But his cock wasn't moving...HE wasn't moving at all, and he
demanded over and over that I not move.  "Stay still," he whispered.
 
     After a while his cock seemed to grow inside me.  It wasn't moving
and my pelvis wasn't moving, but cock and cunt seemed to have a life of
their own.  I breathed deeply of his rich, musky odor and the minty
scent of his mouth.  The announcer was saying, "She's gasping for
breath, her legs are jerking, she wants it bad!"  The idea of somebody
watching me flat on my back with my legs spred wide in smacking sexual
abandon with this kid was terribly exciting.  I could feel the beginning
of something deep inside...tried again to stop it but couldn't.  An
intense orgasm left me shuddering and weeping uncontrollably.      One
after another they each fucked me.  No two did it alike, but each time
they did I orgasmed.  Unheard of.  Before, only Bill, a lover and one
boy had ever brought me to orgasm by fondling and kissing or fucking
me.  Now, I had more experience in a few hours than I had in all the
rest of my life.
     When I got back home I found a note from Bill saying he had gone
hunting.  I drew a hot bath and climbed in.  For some reason I thought
of all the things I had been taught about sex.  Ladies don't crave it,
only whores do.  Ladies are not excited by nasty things boys do.  Lies,
I thought, damned lies!  I'm neither an angel nor a bitch in heat.  I'm
a real woman misunderstood by my husband and most other men as well as
by ninety-five percent of the women I know. 

     I knew I was very lucky not to have encountered violence, but I
also knew that it was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me. 
I did not call the police or report it.  Instead, I think of it often
and I seem to remain in a constant state of sexual turn-on.    

     When I'm thinking about that morning, I sometimes wish it would
happen all over again.  So I've done the next best thing and have a
lover who cares for me.  Daddy's worst fears have come true.  His little
girl has certainly ended up shamefully enjoying what no lady should. 
There, Dr. Josiah, I've said it!  

Chapter II
                       MARK - A  CASANOVA 

     Growing up in another country, especially France, can make a big
difference in a young man's life.  Even more so if his home was in
Paris, as Mark's had been, or my name isn't Jina.  

     Mark Johnson's personality is somewhere between dynamite and
nitro.  He's a friendly guy, the kids at Federal Way High School like
him.  Sure, he is Mr. smartass with most of the answers, but he never
makes the other kids feel stupid.  

     Tracy Cooper will tell you Mark can be ever so helpful.  She was
going to fail solid geometry for certain sure, and Mr. George thought
she was totally dropped out before Mark began to coach her.  And there's
was an electric air about him that excites girls very much.

     And the excitement is all his.  You know, no drugs or anything like
that. Nobody looks down on him because of his disdain for pot, coke, or
other drugs.  He just doesn't need that extra kick, he explains, nor
alcohol in any form.

     By the end of the third week of school, Mark made his first mark in
America.  Tracy was wearing these really cute tight-ass Levis and she
kept hinting that she needed super help with English lit.  She looked
really cute in her jeans and Mark said yes, he would come over that
night and help her.  He spent the first two hours explaining the real
meaning behind the plot in Ivanhoe.  He spent an hour talking to Tracy's
mom, Elaine Cooper.  Elaine was a little better put together than her
daughter, even if she was forty.  The truth of it was that Jason Cooper,
Elaine's husband, was in New York on one of his many, many business
trips, and as always, had taken his secretary with him.  Mrs. Cooper was
wearing Levis, too, and she liked the way Mark admired what was in her
jeans.  Her husband rarely noticed.

     Mark left Tracy and Mrs. Elaine Cooper just after 10:30, but he
didn't go home.  Thirty minuts later he tapped lightly on Mrs. Coopers
bedroom window.  When Elaine saw who it was she put her finger to her
lips - shhh - (for godsakes don't awaken Tracy) and motioned for Mark to
come to the back door.  Ten minutes later Mrs. Elaine Cooper was in
seventh heaven with her young man. 

     Mark never told his friends or anybody but me about the night he
spent in Tracy Cooper's mother's bed, and neither did he tell them about
Misty Brown's mother, or the night with Ginger, Jackie Edwards' mom.  Or
Michell Crowley's mom, or Cara Robert's mom.  His friends never heard
about the wildest night of all with Lena Smucker (mother of Kim Smucker,
who was supposed to have the best ass in eleventh grade).  There was
just no reason to tell.

     Mark liked women 25 to 35-years-old a lot, and after all, he didn't
do us any harm.  He just wanted to hug us and kiss us and spend the
night with us if at all possible. This didn't mean he couldn't date
girls his own age, but older women were special, he said.  They never
pretended and they never made him do all the work.  They helped...a
lot.  But most of all, they really were grateful for his ability and
efforts, like he was doing THEM a favor or something.  Imagine that.  I
guess that includes me.


     Lena Smucker was another of us who never felt a twinge of guilt
about robbing the cradle, not to mention committing adultry.  Instead,
she felt like she had eaten too much candy, but that's what Toppfast was
for.  I dig that.

     By the Fourth of July Mark Johnson had brought a touch of heaven, a
little spice, and a lot of joy to more than a dozen Federal Way homes. 
Young mothers who once had fumed in resentment now purred like sleek
cats.  The anger at being trapped by kids, and selfish husbands began to
fade in these homes "marked" by Mark.  No, I didn't like having him
seeing other wives, but what could I do?  He really is something!

     Picture this:  A fifteen-year-old boy, happy as hell, getting that
warm, fully satisfied feeling from the wive's and mothers of Federal
Way, but not losing sleep over it.  Sure, a few mothers turned him down,
but even they didn't blow the whistle on him.  He was booked up every
night and every afternoon.  About every fourth afternoon was with me. 
He never had any acne.  If his parents were curious or concerned about
his comings and goings, they never let on.  I started keeping a diary
after meeting Mark:

      " Wed. 7/8 -  It doesn't matter how often I have sex, I never get
enough.  I spend most of my time daydreaming and then, Well, you know. 
I like to do my work nude or nearly nude, maybe just a negligee.  I love
the sensual feel of it.

   "Then Mark appeared out of nowhere, a school chum of my friends
daughter, but he "raped" me.  His cock is magnificent.  Thick, a young
leviathan.  I've held it in my hands - tasted the salty sweetness of
it.  Never did I imagine he could be built so perfectly for me, that he
would be set afire by my touch, so responsive to my need.  Here in my
hands I've held the proof of his desire for me.  I don't know what to do
with him.

     This morning I licked his glistening shaft.  My hands cupped his
balls, sucked up close and full in his dangling sac.  His beautiful
hard-on was all for me.

     Finally, I was able to push him onto his back and straddle him. 
Oh, god.  Slowly I came down onto it, feeling myself accepting him.  oh,
oh.  I was so hot inside and so wet.  I took him all in and remained
still.  The long hours of exercising my vagina muscles paid off now.  My
pussy clasped him tightly, and presently, without either of us moving,
something began to happen.  He was so tightly embedded in me, so much a
part of me.  I remained motionless so I could feel it, and he so
completely filled me that there was no way I wouldn't feel it happen. 
His shaft began jerking violently, literally shaking me. Oh, I can't
describe it, but it's so good.  He exploded in me.  His wetness squished
around his hard shaft. 

     Now, I was starting, too, but I really wanted to concentrate on
feeling his orgasm,  but the sensations of his spurting soon overwhelmed
me and I lost control.  As orgasm swept me, my muscles tightened around
him so strongly that he groaned in agony.  But I was beyond hearing
him.  I was all cunt as never before.  I wanted to melt and be a part of
this boy-man.  My legs began to tremble, and involuntary movements of my
pelvis created a vacuum, sucking at our mingled juices.  Ooohh!  God! 
That brought me over.  "I'm coming,"  I screamed, "Oh, honey I'm
commmming!  I may have fainted.  For the first time in my life it was
too much for me.  I must have something potent to protect me from this
15-year-old powerhouse and now!" 
Tue. - 7/14

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