BH-6473  Her Talented Mouth
(Sally Bowker)


INTRODUCTION 

In William Shakespeare's immortal As You Like It, he noted, "All the world's 
a stage, and all the men and women merely players..." 

The Unwilling Actress places the spotlight on a stage where the players 
reveal the many roles in life they aspire to. It is a setting that finds a 
young ingenue who comes to realize that the world of greasepaint, scenery, 
and make-believe is more to her liking than reality. 

Beautiful, talented, and misunderstood by those nearest to her, Celia lives 
only to play the dramatic parts on stage that will free her from the drab 
and dull life in the real world. The other inhabitants of this fantasy land 
share her enthusiasm for this means of escape. 

The theatre, as some form of dramatic expression, can be found in every 
historical period and in every part of the world. In nearly all cultures, 
what happens on the stage reflects what has or is happening in the society 
of the area or era represented. The ancient Greek plays described the 
communal life of that time. During the Puritan influence on history, 
theatres were officially closed. Ibsen, Tolstoy, George Bernard Shaw and 
others used the stage to deal with the social problems of their times via 
their works. 

And now, Bella Dietrich, with her unusual penetrating perception of the 
motives behind the facade and inner workings of today's men and women, has 
written a scathing in-depth story dealing with role-playing in the Twentieth 
Century. The author, a lifetime student of the interpersonal relations 
between those who love and those who hate each other, leads the reader into 
the intricate patterns of human emotion. 

As the curtain is raised on this drama, the foibles of the characters come 
into focus-the small town hard-working accountant who is trying to save his 
money in order to start his own business, the little rich girl whose only 
talent is identifiable by a dollar sign, the political performer fighting 
for power with his only negotiable asset, the disillusioned Vietnam veteran, 
and the dedicated thespian. 

In this richly tapestried setting filled with contemporary theatrical 
fledglings, The Unwilling Actress tells the real story of those who strive 
for a life in the theatre and of those who fail to understand the drives and 
needs that motivate these gifted and fragile human beings. 

Celia lives only when she has donned the mask of the theatre-whether it be 
the tragedian or the comedienne. How many of us do this in our daily lives 
without the trappings of the theatre? And how many of us wish that we could 
don the disguise of another person to achieve our goals in life? 

These questions can only be answered by our readers. 

This marks the third Dietrich novel to be published by Dansk Blue Books. We 
believe it also marks the first time that the drama of today- the 
frustration, search, and quest for identity that is sweeping the world-has 
been so forcefully told via the ageless vehicle of the theatre. 

The Publishers 

 Chapter One 

The warm spring air fanned the leaves of the old elms, and they swayed above 
the intricate roofs of the two Victorian houses set wide apart to form a 
small park between. The park needed little transformation to become an 
outdoor theatre for the annual Shakespearean production of The Peabody 
School of Dramatic Arts. 

The folding audience chairs had been set up in a wide crescent around the 
playing area which backed up to the path leading to the former servants' 
quarters that now served as dressing rooms. Celia Brown carefully powdered 
her throat and expanse of snowy bosom displayed by the low square-cut 
neckline of her costume. Her hand was shaking a little. 

It was more than just the usual tenseness before a performance. That was a 
tenseness she welcomed, for it was an occupational hazard that once lived 
through usually presaged a good performance. This was a nervous excitement 
that bordered on the edge of hysteria, and it was caused by Webster 
McCullough. 

The way he'd looked at her a while ago when he'd come to the dressing room 
door... as though he could devour her on the spot. His piercing blue eyes 
behind his glasses had missed nothing... Celia's polished pecan-brown hair 
that swung around her heart-shaped face like a bell, her wide almond eyes 
that tilted up at the corners, her delicate little nose and curved mouth 
that quirked up in faint mockery. His eyes had assessed and caressed her 
luminous white skin from her wide brow down to her slender throat to the 
mounds of her breasts, barely covered and pushed up by the boning of the 
costume till they were lifted and pressed upward as if in invitation. Even 
where she was covered she felt naked under his eyes, as though he could see 
her narrow waist and curved hips and long thighs under the heavy rose 
brocade. 

Celia had seen a decisiveness suddenly tighten his good-looking face. A 
muscle twitched in his firm jaw. He reached out one arm and circled her 
corseted waist and pulled her to him fiercely, his lips against her ear. 
"I'll be parked around the corner. Come to me as soon as you can. I can't 
wait much longer, baby." 

"Web... please. There are people all over the place." 

"Hurry and get through this damn dress rehearsal. I want to get you alone... 
away from everybody." His lips had burned a quick brand just under her jaw 
and he was gone. 

She'd watched him stride down the path, dodging actors and props and bushes. 
Her real nervousness had started then, for he looked and acted like a man 
who meant what he said. The quiet easy charm that he usually wore like a 
jaunty feather had turned to armor plate in that brief moment. He looked 
like a man about to do battle who had no doubts about his ability to win. 

Until now Webster McCullough had looked like what he was... a serious young 
businessman, a C.P.A. who was on his way up. He was a shade above middle 
height, with thick wavy blond hair and blue eyes that varied in temperature 
from hot to cold in a flash sometimes, but were usually controlled to a 
moderate setting. The long hours of sitting he offset with arduous gym hours 
that had built powerful muscles on his shoulders and chest. His glasses only 
added to his seriousness and made him look older than his thirty-one 
years... but his easy disarming grin counterbalanced them. 

But now he looked different to Celia... so different she was a little 
frightened. But the fright was threaded with shivering strands of excitement 
that raced through her veins. She knew that a change was coming in their 
relationship, and most probably tonight! 

She shaped her lips again with the lip brush dipped in rosy rouge. These 
last three months had been the best time of her whole nineteen years, and 
she didn't want things to change. Not yet. It was too perfect. She wanted to 
keep it that way. 

It was still a miracle to her that she was here in Dallas... living alone 
and away from her parents in Waxahachie. The thought of their dreary little 
hardware store and equally dreary neat white frame house with the starched 
priscilla curtains could still give her the shakes. Their life was as 
circumscribed as the ledgers her father pored over and as inevitable as the 
false friendliness her mother exuded on customers. Work, gossip, church, 
lodge, family reunions, gardening, TV, and sleep. Their early to bed and 
early to rise existence Celia dreaded more than loneliness or death. 

She'd hated it so fiercely from her early childhood that she'd thought for 
years that she must be adopted or else just a born freak. Her only defense 
had been the slow shyness and bookishness her teachers had liked. 

First books and then movies had shouted out other worlds to her... worlds 
she could never reasonably expect to inhabit. And then it had happened. 
She'd been in a school play! Her own world and her identity in that world as 
George and Opal Brown's daughter had disappeared and she could at least 
briefly enter other worlds in other bodies, with other feelings. She could 
be somebody else! 

From that moment on she had lost herself in plays and in acting. In high 
school, she'd been so good at pretending that she stood out in almost 
frightening intensity. Even Mrs. Goodman had been a little in awe of her 
uncanny natural ability. 

After high school, two years of college had not satisfied her or given her 
what she wanted. A small teacher's college had not taught her anything about 
acting she didn't already know. All the other classes were so boring she 
couldn't even bear to listen to them. 

Finally, in desperation, she'd gotten Mrs. Goodman to persuade her parents 
to let her come here. She knew the Peabody School was not the ultimate. It 
was an impoverished, slightly talented, old maid's hold on culture and art. 
Esther Peabody was never much of an actress herself, but she could choose 
and direct the people who were genuine actors. Many of her students had gone 
on to better things. One was even a movie star of some fame. 

And so the best three months of her life had begun. Celia had found a job in 
Highland Park across from S.M.U. She was a clerk of all work in a college 
dress shop during the day, and at night she rehearsed and read and went to 
classes at Peabody on a scholarship. 

Even now she knew that her father would never have permitted it had Miss 
Peabody not been so obviously genteel and refined. Celia roomed with two 
other girl students on the top floor of one of the old Victorian houses in a 
large airy flat that had its own living room, kitchen, bath, and three 
bedrooms. It was perfect for Hilda and Rosemary and herself. 

"They're all whores... those damn movie stars. Pick up any paper... you'll 
see!" Her father was fond of shouting, but Esther Peabody was so completely 
a lady and so quiet and modest that he'd reluctantly let himself be 
persuaded. Celia knew, however, that one slip, one suspicion that she had 
conducted herself in any way other than circumspectly, and she'd be dragged 
home to wither and die in Waxahachie, Texas. 

She bent forward to the mirror to lengthen the dark lines at the corners of 
her eyes. Her full rounded globular breasts almost tumbled out of the top of 
the costume. If her father could see her now, for instance, he'd get so 
angry he'd threaten to kill her. 

If he knew about Webster McCullough, he wouldn't just threaten... he would! 
Her father's idea of a date was to sit in the parlor and drink lemonade! 
She'd had so few of even those dates through high school and college that 
she couldn't even handle them very well. 

But then, men had not really interested her that much before Web. Men! She'd 
never really known any men. They'd been pimply boys! Web was too old for 
her, she supposed. But he didn't seem old. He just seemed like a man. A real 
man. 

There was Bullock Brand and Patrick Flanner, and they were men too, but they 
didn't seem that way to her because she worked with them in plays all the 
time. They were students, involved in her work, and lived right downstairs. 
They'd come barging up to borrow the peanut butter or put a light bulb in 
for you. Well, they seemed more like family. That was the way theatrical 
people were. They lived together whether they did, in fact, or not. 

Satisfied at last with her makeup, she stepped back to get a full-length 
view of herself. She turned and dipped, pleased again to be another 
creature. Shakespeare's Helena this time. She could hear the murmur of the 
small crowd. An invitational audience Esther invited in hopes they'd 
contribute to the school... Very few of them ever did. 

Celia looked critically at her creamy breasts pushed high and round above 
her tiny corseted waist that rose like a stem from her voluminous skirt that 
swept the floor. She blushed thinking of Web's eyes so hot on her. What 
if... if she couldn't handle him tonight when she met him later. A shiver of 
goose bumps broke out on her bare elbows. 

His good-night kisses had gotten more and more insistent, but he'd never 
been... well, awful about it or anything. He'd always been kind and sweet 
and considerate and fun. She really didn't want that to change, and yet... 

The door banged open abruptly and Hilda Norman, one of her apartment mates, 
came galloping in with her skirts held up in one hand. 

"Miss Pea says three minutes till curtain." She stopped then, a frown 
crossing her narrow colorless face. It wasn't fair that Celia could look so 
beautiful! "Well, well, I wonder what your old Daddy would say if he could 
see you now!" Hilda was all of a color, mousy hair, mousy eyes and skin, 
tall and slender. Her only distinguishing feature was a strident, stagy, 
sophisticated voice reminiscent of a Noel Coward drawing room comedy. 

"He'd horsewhip me... that's what he'd do, as you very well know, honey 
chile." Celia laughed. She linked arms with the tall girl. 

"Come on, Hilda... let's knock 'em dead." 

Esther Peabody stretched out her hand in greeting to Justin Garrett. She was 
a pretty woman in her early forties, but her hairdo and clothes were so 
dated she could have been any age between thirty and sixty. Long, thick, 
honey-colored hair was pulled into a loose knot on the nape of her neck, and 
deep waves framed her ears. Her clothes were invariably four precise inches 
below her knees, and the printed chiffon she wore fluttered about her 
excellent calves that were camouflaged by the awkward length. Her nails were 
polished in pale pink with the moons left bare. Her only makeup was pale 
pink lipstick that the girl drama students were sure must be Tangee natural 
from the dime store. She was slender and tallish, but again her clothes fit 
so loosely that ii was almost impossible to say whether she had a good or 
bad figure. She always looked like a housewife in one of the magazine 
advertisements from the thirties... innocuous, pretty, motherly and utterly 
devoid of sex. 

"Mr. Garrett! I'm so delighted you could come. It's almost curtain time, but 
I've saved you a seat without a tree trunk!" she laughed gaily. 

"I'm delighted to be here, Miss Peabody. Any excuse to see you." He brushed 
the back of her hand with his lips elaborately. 

"Now, Mr. Garrett. Save your compliments for all those starlets. By the way, 
as I told you, there's a young girl playing Helena tonight you may want to 
use in one of your Little Theatre productions. She s charming. 

"Charm, I don't need. Talent I do." he grumbled. Justin Garrett was a bear 
of a man, great arms and shoulders and hands and neck, looking as though 
he'd been mistakenly stripped of his fur. But his face was that of an aging 
matinee idol who constantly showed his handsome profile. Dark hair swept 
straight back from his high forehead and silvered becomingly over the 
temples above brooding eyebrows and fiery dark eyes that he flashed 
effectively for emphasis. 

Patrick Flanner spoke to Celia with the passion of his own conviction, not 
just that of the character he was playing. The lights blinded him to the 
audience, but he could see that beautiful creature clearly. One day, he 
thought... one day. 

"... Virginity by being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever 
kept, it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with it!" God, yes, 
away with it. He'd like to be the one who stormed Celia's little hymen. 

Patrick was the epitome of what most people thought an Irishman should look 
like. Curling red hair and blue eyes that crinkled in wild laughter, pale 
faintly freckled skin and a silver tongue that minted words indefinitely and 
spent them lavishly. He knew he had the natural gift for gab attributed to 
his ancestors, and that's why he was at Peabody. He wanted to augment that 
gift by learning the timing and phrasing that only a drama school could 
teach him. He was going to need that training. Certainly he wasn't going to 
organize other people's little local political campaigns forever. He was 
going to run for political office himself and change the whole idiot world. 

"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 

Which we ascribe to heaven..." 

Patrick jerked himself back into character as he heard Celia pronounce the 
beginning of the famous speech of Helena. 

"Bullock Brand... stop that!" Rosemary hissed in a stage whisper behind the 
myrtle trees and lilac bushes that served as the wings of the playing area. 

"Mm-mmm-mmm," he mouthed against her bare throat, holding her back against 
him so his hands came from behind her to cup her barely covered breasts in 
the costume. He was never going to get enough of women, not if he lived to 
be a hundred. And he'd been so afraid they wouldn't even look at him when 
he'd come home from Vietnam, with his prematurely balding head and gaunt 
face. But it wasn't what you looked like. It was how you treated them. And 
he knew how to treat them. Fuck 'em! He'd been working on this one for a 
month, and he thought tonight might be the night. 

"Stop it... it's almost time for my cue, damn you!" she whispered 
desperately. She couldn't even think what her first line was with Bullock 
pawing her. If the truth were known she hadn't really done a lick of work on 
her thesis since he'd moved in downstairs. She didn't really know what was 
so disconcerting about this one. He was certainly nothing to look at. It was 
those damn sad eyes of his and that balding skull over his young-old face. 

"Okay, baby... later." Reluctantly he let her go. She stood a little away 
from him and turned to throw him a quick smile when she saw his sad face. 
She was a pretty thing with soft dark hair curling around her shoulders and 
an earnest expression in her greenish eyes. If she'd been in the movies 
she'd always be given the girl-next-door parts. Sort of an Ali McGraw type, 
but prettier with better boobs and legs. Yeh. Maybe tonight. 

The dressing room was the usual madhouse after a performance. Bodices being 
unlaced and bras put on, slacks replacing voluminous skirts, makeup being 
slathered away with great gobs of cold cream and the incessant giggling, 
chattering, and squealing of girls after a dress rehearsal that had gone 
well. The same furor came from the boy's dressing room. 

Frantically Celia threw on her plaid skirt and silk shirt. Now that it was 
over she wanted to see Web. The worry about his possible insistence had 
evaporated during the play somehow. Everything always seemed a long time ago 
when she came out of the trancelike state of playing a part. She wanted to 
get out before the inevitable preparations about where to go for hamburgers 
and who was going to ride in whose car. It was better if they just assumed 
she'd gone to bed, which she had on occasion. 

Web saw her come rushing around the corner, her long legs twinkling under 
her short skirt in the angled light of the street lamp. Her beautiful 
breasts were jiggling from her fast walking and were clearly outlined mounds 
that tightened his groin. Jesus, she was a beautiful thing! Easy, he 
cautioned himself. You want to screw her, not marry her. 

She slid into the car beside him, laughing and panting from rushing so. He 
pulled her against him hard and captured her soft mouth with his before she 
could do more than utter an unfinished "O..." He kissed her deeply and long, 
crushing her so hard to his chest he could feel her heart beating wildly. 
One soft hand touched his face tenderly, the fingertips just grazing his 
freshly shaved cheek while the other pushed hard against his shoulder to 
break his hold. She wanted it all right, but she was trying to tell herself 
that nice girls didn't. 

Celia could feel Web's hard arms holding her in a viselike grip and his 
mouth bruising her lips, his tongue sunk deeply in her mouth and probing. 
What was the matter with him? He'd never grabbed her so abruptly and held 
her so roughly. Her breasts were mashed hard against his chest and his thigh 
was pressed hotly against hers and a strange warmth was stealing through her 
though she could hardly breathe. Finally she twisted her head away and 
gasped, "Web... please... you mustn't... I..." 

"Sorry... Hell, no! I'm not sorry. You looked so damned beautiful coming 
toward me. I guess I... but I'm not sorry." Just as abruptly, he started the 
car, turned on the headlights, flipped the radio on, and pulled away from 
the curb. 

She could still feel her heart pounding in her chest, and she felt both 
relieved and disappointed that she was not still in his arms. The 
nervousness had returned tenfold, for if he really got insistent she didn't 
know what she would do. She'd had to fight boys off before, but they were so 
easy if you just said something cutting and laughed at them. But Web was a 
man, not a boy. What would she do? 

She leaned her head back on the seat and tried to make some kind of natural 
conversation. "It... the play... it went well tonight. Mr. Garrett wants me 
to try out for him at the Dallas Little Theatre. He used to be a Hollywood 
director. Isn't that great?" 

"No, it isn't great. It's just that much less time I can see you... and I 
want to see you more, not less," he grinned. 

"Maybe we've been seeing too much of each other already," she said in her 
strangely gritty-satin voice. 

"Never," he vowed, steering with his right hand and reaching across with his 
left to catch her right hand and pull it to his lips. He kissed the palm 
softly, and she could feel the kisses travel like lightning impulses all the 
way up her arm. Then with his eyes steady on the road he kissed the fingers 
solemnly one by one. The insidious warmth was stealing through her again. 
She knew she should snatch her hand away, but she couldn't. 

"Where are we going to eat?" she inquired as casually as she could with her 
hand still being kissed and fondled with his lips. 

"Where we can be alone. Where there's nobody but us," he answered. And Celia 
shivered, not sure if Web was being ominous or not. 

"Do you suppose you could spare my hand for your driving? I mean it's 
dangerous in this traffic," she said meekly, for the cars were flashing by 
like streaks and the stoplights on cars ahead were polkadots of red reaching 
into the distance. 

"Sure, baby." He dropped her hand, only to pull her roughly snug against his 
hip and thigh. His hands were both on the wheel now, and she was tired. It 
would be all right. 

Celia roused from a deep drowsiness that weighed her down like a mountain of 
featherbeds. The effort of lifting her own eyes and moving her body seemed 
too much for her muscles. She could hear Web saying something to her, and 
the car wasn't running any more. He was standing by her side of the car with 
the door open and was trying to help her out of the car. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Up we go." 

"Oh... where are we?" 

She blinked her eyes and leaned against him to steady herself. They were 
parked by a patio with garden chairs and gay umbrella tables. It was pretty 
dark. With his arm around her he walked her to a big door with a brass 
doorknob. 

"I don't understand. Where are we? Are we at a restaurant?" 

"No, we're not at a restaurant." His arm tightened around her, and he was 
opening the door with a key that had a plastic number plate attached to it. 
"But we are going to eat." 

He pulled her inside a darkened room, closed the door, and flipped a light 
switch. The large expensively furnished room glowed with a soft light from 
tall lamps. There was a round walnut table under a bay window with two deep 
armchairs pulled up to it. A long elaborate shelf and chest and desk 
arrangement on one wall held a television set. An enormous king-size bed 
covered sumptuously in blue velvet dominated the room. The drapes and chair 
coverings were in matching blue velvet. A bad reproduction of The Blue Boy 
hung over the bed. The thick blue carpet dragged at her heels as she walked 
a few steps into the room. Why... it was a motel room! How dare Web take her 
to a motel! Her suspicions were confirmed now! 

She whirled to confront him, suddenly angry and a little frightened. 
"It's... it's a motel! Whatever gave you the idea you could bring me to a 
motel..." 

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her with his sincere blue 
eyes, serious behind the glasses. 

"Two reasons... you're hungry and I wanted to be really alone with you. 
Except for driving someplace in the car we've never been really alone 
together. Is that so terrible?" He looked at her quizzically and then kissed 
her quickly. 

"But..." 

"No buts. You come right over here and sit down. Your steak's ready." He 
maneuvered her across the room and seated her at the round table. Only then 
did she notice the silver domes covering steak platters. The aroma hit her 
nostrils. The heavenly aroma of broiled steak. He lifted the dome in front 
of her with a flourish. Her salivary glands started working furiously at the 
sight of the rare fillet garnished with buttery mushrooms and broiled 
tomatoes. She hadn't eaten since breakfast. She never could before a 
performance, and afterwards she was always famished. 

Suddenly she felt very ashamed. This must have cost Web a great deal of 
money, and she knew how stringently he budgeted so as to acquire the capital 
to open his own business. He even lived in a single room and cooked over a 
hotplate to cut down his living expenses. 

"It's... it's lovely, Web," she smiled up at him uncertainly. 

"Eat your steak, woman. You're starving." She nodded and cut into the 
beautiful meat. Web opened the champagne and poured. She'd never even tasted 
it. Waxahachie drank beer, and the closest anybody there got to champagne 
was looking at the rich beautiful people on a movie screen. He held up his 
glass in a toast, just as they did in the movies, and his eyes burned into 
her. 

"All's Well that Ends Well," he toasted her with the title of the play, but 
his eyes gave it several meanings. 

It was a long leisurely dinner, and Web could see that Celia was completely 
relaxed and just a little tiddly. The top button of her blouse had slipped 
loose from the hole, and he could see the creamy rounds of her breasts 
cleaving together in a "V" of alabaster flesh. He felt his penis leap 
against the bindings of his shorts and pants. There was something about this 
particular girl that sent him right up the wall. The way her eyes tilted, 
the way her shining hair swung, the curve of her mouth in that kind of Mona 
Lisa smile, and that voice that even on the telephone could make his gut 
tighten. She was both old and wise and young and innocent, naive and 
worldly, trusting and suspicious. A paradox. He hadn't really figured her 
yet. All he knew was that he had never waited almost three months to lay a 
girl. Goodnight kisses were as close as he'd gotten, and he'd never stood 
for that nonsense from any girl before. He looked up from his glass to watch 
her mobile, beautiful face and expressive hands pouring out a funny story 
about the actors she worked with. Her whole body leaned toward him. It was 
as though she put her whole self into everything... even telling a funny 
story. She gave. Well, he wanted all she could give. Now. 

He stood up and walked the step to her chair and lifted her to her feet. Her 
big eyes looked at him, wide and uncertain, and the words of her story died 
on her lips. He pulled her to him and bent his mouth to kiss her hungrily. 
She kissed him back and then tried to pull away. He crushed her to him even 
closer, and he could feel the delicious sensation of her big beautiful 
breasts mashed against his hard chest and the "V" of her legs joining and 
the little mound of Venus under her skirt. One hand slid down to cup her 
firm young buttock and his other hand held her skull through her silky hair, 
pressing her mouth open under his for his starving tongue. She was moaning 
and trying to wriggle away, but he held her fast and hard. 

Celia breathed raggedly through her nose, and it wasn't very satisfactory 
because Web seemed to be sucking the very life out through her mouth and his 
hand held the back of her head so hard that she couldn't move it. Her bottom 
felt hot where his hard hand held it to shove her so close against him that 
she could feel his organ, huge and menacing against her soft little belly. 

This wasn't any groping boy. He knew exactly what to do and how. Just when 
she thought she'd have to do something awful like trying to stomp on his 
toe, his hand came up and closed over her breast and his mouth slid down her 
throat and buried against the hollow between her shoulder and neck. 

"Don't fight me, baby," he ordered harshly, his lips hot against her skin. 

The terrible warmth was making her limp... yet her breasts were heaving 
under his hand. Her eyes were closed, and the heat from his lips against her 
throat sent radiant warmth coursing all through her, and her breast was 
blazing from his hand. Oh, she didn't want to fight him. It was so lovely in 
his arms... but it was all wrong. Everything she'd ever been taught said it 
was all wrong. How could anything so wrong and sinful feel so marvelous? 

Strange fragments of thoughts that were not even really thought--just 
fragments, glimpses out of time-flashed across her mind. Her father 
screaming about actresses being whores... her mother warning her about men 
who only wanted one thing out of you... the panting fevered pimply boys 
she'd occasionally had to fight off... the trap of early marriage she'd seen 
her girl friends fall into... one pitiful girl who'd gotten pregnant in high 
school... all these things flashed in painful memory in a montage that 
wheeled and would not focus in her head. 

A jolt shot through her so delicious that her limbs turned to jelly, for his 
hand had slid her blouse off one shoulder and the bra strap with it and his 
burning hand cupped one full heaving naked breast. It was as though she'd 
been waiting all her life for that particular sensation... Web's warming 
palm sheltering her soft vulnerable breast. 

Web could feel her soft pink nipple stiffen to a closed coral bud against 
his palm in immediate eager response. He'd known from the minute he saw her 
three months ago that he had to have her and that he would! He was only 
amazed and scornful of his long and unfamiliar patience. She was shuddering 
and shivering under his hands and mouth and arms, as he'd somehow sensed 
from that first moment that she would. That wide-eyed faintly mocking smile 
was a good mask to put off innocent horny boys, but he'd had too many women 
to be fooled by it. 

"I almost ripped that costume off you tonight... so I could touch you like 
this," he muttered against her open upturned mouth, his hand kneading the 
firm satin flesh of her heavy young breast. 

"Please... please... don't," she moaned, trembling even more as his hand 
slipped her other white shoulder out of her silk blouse, freeing the other 
peaked mountain of breast. Her blouse dangled limply down her arms, and her 
bra hung by the straps on her elbow. His fingers traced the globes of both 
breasts that hung like fruits from the tender truck of her body. 

"Nooooooo!" She screamed softly as his thumb and forefinger pinched her hard 
rubied nipple painfully and an electric shock flashed through her and 
something pulled inward in an agonizing pleasure between her legs. She could 
feel moisture dampening her pantyhose. 

Suddenly her father's face, twisted in horrible anger, as it had been that 
time he'd caught her coming out of a movie with Johnny Benson when she'd 
supposedly gone alone, dominated the whole of her mind. She suddenly saw 
herself as she would look to her father now... breasts bared in a motel room 
with a man... the whole sordid unsavory picture... the small-town girl lured 
into a sinful vulgar fleshly hell. The greatest hell of all was knowing that 
if this escapade was found out, she'd be dragged home to rot forever. 

A terrified sob welled up from deep within her, and she tore herself from 
Web's arms and started toward the bathroom to put her clothes in order and 
then somehow get out of there before she was further defiled. 

Just as she got to the bathroom door, Web caught her from behind-one strong 
arm pinning her arms to her sides. The tears were pouring down her face now 
and the sobs rising in choking waves. "Stop acting like a child," he ordered 
sternly. "Open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at yourself." His hand was 
tenderly sweeping across her naked breasts, thrusting fully into his hand 
while he held her immobile in front of the mirrored bathroom. "You are a 
full beautiful enchanting woman. Not a naive child. You have a woman's needs 
and I have a man's needs. We are grown up and we care about each other. I 
knew from the moment I saw you, you were going to be my woman." His voice 
was imprinting the hypnotic words against her throat, and she could see her 
own breasts, turgid-tipped and fully developed, come to quivering life again 
under his hand that spoke a tender body language as mesmerizing as his 
voice. 

Web kept talking softly, and Celia's sobs were subsiding as he gently 
removed her arms from the blouse and unhooked the bra to let it fall to her 
feet. He worked quickly but stealthily so as not to alarm her again. 
Fortunately her skirt only wrapped and unbuttoned and fell in a bright plaid 
pool. He caught his breath as he saw the brown triangle of pubic fleece 
revealed by her sheer pantyhose. The pale slender columns of her perfect 
legs joined to form that sacred triangle, and her firm flat belly and hips 
formed planes as aesthetically perfect as a da Vinci geometric drawing. His 
cock jerked wildly in his pants against her firm buttocks and spine. Easy, 
he cautioned. His hands caressed her belly and hips and thighs, feeling the 
perfection his eyes laved, and in the process he slid the pantyhose down 
till they too fell in wisps around her feet. 

At last she stood naked as a marble goddess but far more beautiful, for the 
blood coursed under that flawless skin to tinge its white perfection with 
rose. The flesh under his hands hollowed and swelled in impossible curves, 
and he shook in spite of himself at the sight he had waited for so long. 
Feverishly he pulled his own clothes off with one hand as he stood behind 
her, holding her with his arm and letting his hand stray over her lush 
nakedness. 

Celia felt as though she might fall, but Web's rock-hard arm and wandering 
hand held her both literally and figuratively. In trancelike fascination she 
watched her own naked body being caressed, and her eyes registered the 
delicious sensation her flesh was feeling. This couldn't be happening. It 
was a delight she had dimly imagined in her loneliest moments as being 
possible perhaps when one was married... but it was so far from her own 
experience that it seemed she was playing an impossible part with ease and 
eagerness. Celia Brown had never felt a male hand on her naked flesh, and 
she could see the muscles of his hand, the tendons, the veins as they worked 
in deft combination to move that delight-giving hand over her bare body. She 
could even see her pelvis arch as he smoothed her belly and then inched down 
to tangle his fingers in her pubic hair. Her own moisture was seeping damply 
from deep inside her to sheen her thighs on the inside just where her legs 
joined. Her cheeks were still wet, but her eyes stared wildly back at her, 
glazed in a mixture of terror and pleasure and awe. The branding heat from 
his hand flowed right through her flesh wherever it touched, firing some 
inner furnace deep in her vitals. She heard him moan deep in his throat and 
felt him turn her and crush her to his own naked wanting body. 

"Oh... baby... God." His mouth attacked her own and she was crushed 
delectably against the hard hairiness of his strong male body. She felt his 
tongue plunge deeply into her throat and his arms clenching her painfully as 
though he were going to press her completely into his own flesh. Oh, yes. 
She could never get close enough. Her own arms crept up around his neck and 
she opened her mouth wide to receive him. She could feel the huge throbbing 
instrument of his penis, upright and rigid, mashed between them as her 
thrusting breasts were mashed into his hairy chest. The incredible tactile 
messages bombarding her brain were jamming the circuits to reason and sense 
and judgment. 

Web fucked deeply into her warm velvet soft mouth with his tongue and his 
prick jerked irritably in jealousy, still imprisoned between their naked 
bodies. Never mind. He was going to bury his cock up to the hilt in that 
sweet little pussy in short order. She was getting hotter by the second and 
he was going to ignite that inner fire to a blast furnace. He massaged her 
silky warm little rounded buttocks with both hands and cupped them to lift 
her up to him even harder. Stooping a little, he wrapped his arms under her 
globed buttocks and lifted her up against him till her head was above his, 
still locked to his mouth, and then let her beautiful naked body slide 
slowly down his own. He could feel the soft flesh of her slide down against 
his cock, pressing the foreskin down. Oh, God! He couldn't wait. He had to 
stick it in her, shove it into that hot little box, hollow and waiting 
between her legs. 

When Celia was standing again on the floor, he released her mouth and stared 
down at her with burning blue eyes that bored into her very soul. Sometime, 
somewhere, she realized he'd taken off his glasses. His eyes burned fiercely 
into her and she felt her whole body quake and shiver. Her fingers trembled 
against his mouth and she tried to speak, to communicate the volcano of 
surging emotion that was erupting inside her. Solemnly he kissed her 
fingers, never taking his hot eyes from her face. 

"Oh, Celia, Celia... Celia," he sighed at last, turning his head so his jaw 
pressed her temple, and the image of their two bodies pressed together from 
head to feet sprang into view in the mirrored wall of the bathroom as they 
still stood in the doorway. He pressed her closer with his hands in sudden 
fierceness to hide even from himself the surge of tenderness that swept him. 

"Look at us," he whispered. "Look how we fit together... how we were made to 
fit." Her eyes leaped to his in the mirror and then saw... really saw the 
beauty of their naked bodies twined and cleaving. His hardness against her 
softness, his straight leanness against her swelling lushness as they stood, 
belly, breast, thigh, faces together. Her eyes widened in fear and amazement 
as she saw his huge, thrusting, blunt-headed enormous organ mashed between 
them. An instrument of torture, of agony. How could it be so massive? She'd 
only really seen her father's when she'd inadvertently rushed into the 
bathroom when he was there, and it had seemed a limp, purplish obscene and 
rather pathetically ugly peeing instrument. The facts taught in hygiene 
class were not even close to the incredible fact of seeing Web's gigantic 
pulsing thing. Oh, God! It looked even bigger than it felt against her. 

Suddenly the horror of what she was... where she was... what she'd been 
doing hit her with a full load of guilt and shame. She'd been able to bear 
her father's taunts and accusations and predictions about her insistence on 
a stage career all these years only because she knew she was innocent... a 
virgin... pure in fact despite his suspicions. Yet... here she stood naked 
and panting against a naked man who was obviously only after the one weapon 
she had against her father's anger. She'd be ruined... forever ruined. No 
man would ever want to marry her. No-o-o-o-o! It mustn't happen! 

She tore herself from his arms and tried to pick up her clothes, now 
terrified and frantic to get away. Oh, why had she come out with Web at all? 
She longed to be with the others at some hamburger place, eating and 
laughing and safe. 

"What are you doing?" he roared incredulously, grabbing her arms. 

"Look at us," she snarled sarcastically. "Well, I looked and I saw." She 
blazed at him furiously. "My mother was right. My father was right. You... 
you just want... to..." Tears of rage and disappointment and shame welled 
up. 

"Say it... fuck you! Yes, I want to fuck you... and what's more you want it, 
too! I don't even believe you! You're out of another century! A god-damned 
prick tease! Well, baby," he shook her, his hands biting brutally into her 
arms. "No woman teases me. I've waited three long months for you! You had me 
so goddamned hung up... I haven't even had a woman since I met you!" 

"Please... please!" She wept in terror and pain. His anger hurt even worse, 
stabbing her heart. "No, Web... please... please let me go," she sobbed. 
"Don't make me hate you." 

"You won't hate me, bitch! I can promise you that!" he snarled wildly, 
turning her around and shoving her farther into the bathroom right up close 
to the mirrored wall. He caught her elbows behind her back and held her 
captive. "Look at yourself," he thundered, grabbing her jaw and forcing her 
head up till her eyes lifted to the image of her naked recoiling body and 
part of his naked body behind her. 

Celia saw her own eyes wide with terror, the eyes of a captive animal, 
cornered and beginning to lose hope. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her 
mouth hung slack and bubbling with sobs. 

"You see these tits! They were made for a man's mouth." He flicked the 
reddened hard tips of her nipples with his fingernail. She shivered and 
moaned, the nipples closing even tighter to pointed hard tips that tried to 
turn inside out, the soft velvet flesh of the areolas clenching and 
darkening. "You know why they poke out like that? Because they want to be 
sucked and bitten and chewed till they blow up like balloons!" His hand came 
up to cover one white fleshy mass of roundness. "You know why that feels so 
good... so delicious? Because it makes your hot little pussy get all ready 
for my cock!" He moved slightly so she could see the huge rod poling up from 
his mat of blond pubic hair. 

"We're going to teach you a few things, baby!" His voice was hard and 
unforgiving, and she could feel his anger almost palpable in the mirrored 
room that was full of their naked reflections no matter where she looked. 
The sobs still bubbled up from her chest, and they brought a hopelessness 
she'd never experienced before. Here in this place-this rented place of 
assignation-she was going to be raped and ruined forever. She sagged against 
his rock-hard arm that held her pinned like a calf for slaughter. 

"I said... look!" he roared wildly, snapping her jaw up again. Her eyes 
opened again painfully. She obeyed wearily and fearfully. He could do worse 
than rape, she knew, if she fought him. He could break every bone in her 
body with those hard, expert hands. 

"Now this is my cock, my prick, my tool, my meat," he stroked the length of 
the rigid rod with one hand, moving the foreskin back and forth until she 
could see that the head of the fleshy stem was oozing a thin liquid. "And it 
doesn't like to be teased. Made to stand up proud and proper and ready and 
then told it can't ram into your hot little pussy." His breath was rasping 
through his nose and made a tiny fogged cloud on the mirror. 

She watched in horror as his hand came out and snaked across her white belly 
and down into the pale brown triangle of her pubic hair. "This is your 
pussy." He stood behind her and put both arms in front along her sides and 
both hands between her legs and spread her thighs slightly until she stood 
in a parade rest position. Celia could feel his mammoth cock pressed into 
her spine, and it sent pulsing messages tingling up her backbone... lewd 
messages that her tired brain did not want to translate but her body 
received anyway. 

His hands moved, and the forefinger of each hand traced along the outer 
edges of her privates that were fringed with hair. "These are the labia 
majora," he grunted as his fingers slid back and forth over the swollen lips 
and she could see the rounded lips were moist. 

"And then just inside are the labia minora." And his fingers touched the 
inner lips that he peeled open to her horrified eyes. She stared in 
fascination as his fingers smoothed up and down, and she could feel the 
sticky moisture lubricating her inside. 

"Then right up here," he panted harshly, his eyes fastened on her box where 
his fingers played and stroked obscenely, "is the clitoris... your clit." 
His finger darted up to touch something that only looked like a fold of 
flesh at first at the upper end of the aperture but felt as though her whole 
body were electrified by the sizzling jolt that shocked through her. He'd 
touched her center, the very center of her being, and it buzzed like an 
alarm button that sent shrieks along her every nerve. 

"When you were a little girl, you rubbed your fingers there, as I'm doing 
now, or you rocked it against your favorite doll because it felt so good." 
His massaging finger did the motions his voice described. Celia shook, and 
her hips arched forward to his terrible finger that sent such raging flicks 
of desire racing through her. She remembered dimly... not a doll... but 
sitting and rubbing her thighs together because it felt so delicious... the 
piano stool. Yes, the piano stool. And her mother had punished her terribly, 
beating her bare little bottom unmercifully with flaming hands. She'd been 
so sore she literally couldn't sit down, and she'd sobbed for hours in her 
little bed... but she'd never done it again. 

This indescribable, incredibly delectable lovely feeling was what her mother 
had punished her for. This feeling was what she wasn't supposed to feel. It 
was a sin to feel this. A sin she'd never be forgiven for now... for she was 
feeling it... and oh God, it was so good. 

"That's where it is, baby. That's it... rock it up to me," he urged. "Rock 
it up to me." 

Web could feel her shake and watched her hips lunge forward in the grind of 
a belly dancer, rocking her clit up to his massaging finger. He could see 
the pink flesh in firm swollen lips, wet with her moisture. Carefully he 
peeled the flesh back until he could see the tiny bud of her clitoris, erect 
and quivering like a tiny gorged penis. She was moaning and wailing in spite 
of herself, and then holding her breath as she saw her own clitoris 
reflected in the mirror and his finger press the tiny button. She jerked 
like a prodded animal at the end of an electrified cattle prod. Web could 
feel his cock jerking wildly against her smooth silken buttocks. Soon. Oh, 
God. 

The mirrors reflected the rosily white flesh of her beautiful nakedness, 
thighs splayed and head now and then flopping back against his shoulder, the 
big heavy firmly rounded young breasts heaving and the pelvis arching lewdly 
to his pillaging finger. Jesus! That was the fieriest, pinkest, wettest, 
meatiest cunt he'd ever seen. Young and tender and ready. He moved one hand 
up to enclose the resilient heaviness of one breast and began sliding his 
finger along the length of her slick furrow. 

"Oh-h-h-h-hhhhhhhhh," she breathed softly as she felt and saw him manipulate 
her naked body, his hands tanned against her whiteness- the blond hairs 
standing out on the backs of them. Her breasts felt tender and swollen, and 
the one he held seemed to flow over his clasping fingers, kneading the 
tenderness. Her vulva was wet and opening like a lascivious pink orchid, 
spreading its petaled lips to the burning sun of his golden hand. 

This was a role she could never have imagined playing. The harlot writhing 
to the satyr's touch, her flesh sensuous and eager and urging, wanting his 
hot hands to never stop their insane libidinous machinations. She watched 
her body play the role avidly on this tiny bathroom stage. Only her eyes 
told her it was herself, not a character she could hide behind. It was 
herself that was enjoying this fleshly hell. It was herself that was 
reacting and participating. It was herself. Her own flesh, her own naked 
wanting flesh. How could her father have known that all the time she was a 
whore... that under her demure, modest demeanor there raged a waiting whore 
who needed only the opportunity? How could he have known that the real Celia 
Brown was a Jezebel, a harlot, a slut, a chippy, a brazen whore? 

Web had stripped her mask as easily as he had stripped her body, and she had 
let him, ignoring all the signs, all the clues that had warned her that this 
night would happen... that this play would be played. 

God damn! It was worth it! It had been worth waiting for. This girl was the 
hottest, most luscious, erotic thing he'd ever been lucky enough to hold in 
his lusting hands. He wanted it now. He'd waited so long, but he couldn't 
tear himself away yet from watching her writhing naked beauty under his 
hands, in the harsh light that showed him all of her in clinical yet poetic 
detail. He couldn't remember ever seeing any woman in such living color and 
detail as this well-lighted mirrored room showed him. 

His hands moved slowly over her... as far as he could reach... up and down 
the sensual curves of thigh and hip and waist and breast and shoulder and 
arms and throat and all the way back down again. The white skin was like hot 
satin writhing under his hands to cleave to his caressing, wandering, 
adventuring hands. 

He'd been a god-damned fool to wait so long. He'd known she was hot the 
minute he'd laid eyes on her. He still didn't understand his own patient 
plodding building up to tonight. It wasn't like him. But now that it was 
here... he was going to savor every bit of it. From now on, he'd have her 
any god-damned time he felt like it. This was his! He was going to have it 
whenever and wherever he wanted it. 

"God!" he groaned, and turned her and caught her to him fiercely, pressing 
her hot white curves into him as hard as he could and finding her mouth. He 
could still see her imprinted behind his eyeballs, burned in rosy color into 
his brain as he closed his eyes and plunged his tongue into the wet warm 
hollow of her mouth. His tongue fucked into her mouth ferociously as his 
cock beat against her belly in frantic knocks. 

He tore his mouth away finally to pant, "I'm going to fuck you silly, you 
beautiful little bitch," catching her hand and pulling away just enough to 
guide it down over his upstanding prick. He watched in the mirror the visual 
ecstasy of her hand, her little white hand slide down his aching, bloated 
cock. 

"Skin it for me," he hissed feverishly, never taking his eyes from the lewd 
image of his own springing shaft enclosed in her soft hand, the bulbous head 
bursting out in a purpling bloom, his hands moving to stroke her breasts to 
coral-tipped rounded cones. 

She looked up into his averted eyes that were glued in hot blue fascination 
to the mirrored reflection of their naked bodies ready for fucking. She 
looked quizzical and afraid and uncertain. Stalling again! He grabbed her 
loosely gripping hand and squeezed it hard over his almost bursting cock and 
jerked her hand under his, guiding it fiercely up and down. 

"I said, skin it!" She trembled at the returning anger in his voice and the 
hardened closing of his face... but she knew now what he wanted. She pulled 
up and down on the massive long thickness of his penis that felt so foreign 
in her hand. She could feel the blood coursing in it under the hot skin and 
see the veins striating the surface and the purple obscenity of the head 
with its one eye oozing. She could not imagine how it could ever penetrate 
her body without killing her. How could she possibly hold its enormity 
within the small fleshy folds he had revealed to her where her thighs 
joined? She knew intellectually it must be possible, for the race could only 
generate in this terrible, horrible act that she knew was going to be done 
to her. 

She looked in curiosity and growing dismay at the jerking, bucking 
instrument in her hands, the weapon that seemed to have a life of its own, 
as though it were unconnected to Web. 

"That's it, baby," he panted obscenely, thrusting his hips forward so it 
touched its sticky, lewd head against her skin. She shrank back, her skin 
recoiling from the feel of that ugly, beastly organ. 

Suddenly she felt ill... as though she were going to throw up the contents 
of her steak dinner all over this mirrored bathroom and all over his naked 
lusting animal body. She couldn't. If he killed her, she couldn't. She 
pulled away from him in horror, trying to quiet her churning stomach. 

"I can't... Web..." she sobbed, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. 

"We'll see," he screamed like a wounded bull, reaching out and picking her 
up to sling her over his shoulder like a sack and marching out the door 
toward the huge bed. Her hands beat wildly and ineffectually against his 
back. She was sobbing uncontrollably and wriggling and beating at him with 
her little fists which he ignored. He jerked the blue velvet coverlet back 
and then the bedclothes. God-damned bitch! By God, if she wanted rape.... 
that's just what she'd get! 

He flung her onto the white sheets, and her head snapped onto the pillow. 
She looked small and vulnerable and miserable, the tears streaking her 
contorted tortured face. Ruthlessly he threw himself down on her, pulling 
her lovely legs apart so she was spread-eagled beneath him, and dropped his 
head to catch one beautiful mountain of breast in his mouth. 

"Agh... aghhhhhhhh!" she screamed as she felt his mouth close on her naked 
breast. Her arms strained against the bonds of his hands and her legs tried 
to scissor closed, but she was trapped, pinned down helplessly by his 
strong, hard body. She could feel his tongue swirling around her nipple, 
which had popped out in his mouth in quivering attention. Oh, no! What was 
he doing? She could feel his hot breath rushing raggedly through his nose 
against her shrinking flesh as his blazing mouth began to suck her breast in 
a fierce suction that sent fine needles of pleasure threading through her 
body. Something strange was happening to her... down there... between her 
legs. The nausea had fled and a sucking in-an in-drawn sensation that seemed 
to draw in time to his voraciously sucking mouth-replaced it. It was a 
feeling of longing... of loneliness... of yearning that she didn't 
understand. 

He held her immobile and savagely sank his teeth into her nipple, knowing 
the pain would be a pleasure she'd scream for again. She did scream 
"AGGGGGGGHHHHHHH"... and arched her breasts up in the agony, her muscles 
ridging as her arms and legs tried to escape his cruel hands and body. 

Web slid his mouth over to drink from her other bursting breast. Oh, God! 
Her scented flesh smelled faintly of gardenia and lemon, and he could almost 
taste droplets of some exotic creamy aphrodisiac flowing out of her rigid 
ruby hard nipple into his lusting mouth. He sucked harder, feeling the 
velvety tiny buds like taste buds on the end of her nipple against his 
tongue. Her sobs were gradually changing to moans. That's it. Moan for me, 
baby. The blood was pounding in his temples and echoed in his thirsting cock 
that pulsed fitfully. 

Celia was writhing and struggling uselessly against the iron fetters of his 
hands and the hard weight of his hot steel body. Her breath labored in 
shudders through her lungs as her body arched her breasts up to his 
gluttonous mouth. A hot heavy golden honey seemed to flow from deep within 
her to her breast and out the focused nipple into his draining mouth. He 
drew his mouth out to the very tip of her nipple, leaving a large wet 
portion of her breast exposed to the air. She could feel Web's tongue lick 
in little trails from the base up to the crowning tip of her mountainous 
breast. He licked and licked both breasts all the way around till both 
nipples stood up in quivering wet yearning. The sobs that wracked her were 
easing to strange sounds like a searching puppy eagerly seeking the home 
flesh of its mother. 

The terrible, beautiful warmth was stealing back through her anger-chilled 
limbs, and the fire centered somewhere in her depths under her navel was 
kindling and spreading. It brought a lassitude that relaxed her arms and 
legs and the muscles gradually eased to limpness against the sheets. A 
numbing blankness was creeping through her brain, and thought was shrinking 
out of her consciousness and only feeling was taking over her whole being. 

"Fucking god-damned bitch..." Web muttered against the hot white satin of 
her skin, kissing the valley between her breasts up her breastbone to her 
throat where a pulse beat wildly in the tendoned cage. He kissed over the 
whole surface of her soft shoulders and the hollows of her tender young 
throat, up her jaw and ears, plunging his tongue into the hot haven of her 
rosy little ears. He could feel her shiver and shake beneath him. She was 
heating up again just fine... and the thought sent a stabbing shiver down 
his spine that dove inward to pierce his bloated balls. Jesus. He didn't 
want to be a bastard, but no bitch was going to treat him the way she had. 

He kissed the salty tears from her temples and cheeks, over her little nose 
and across both fluttering ivory spoons of her eyelids. Web found her soft 
trembling mouth with his and bruised his lips down on hers. Her mouth 
responded and clung to him. Cautiously and waiting for one false move, he 
slid his hands up her arms and dug one arm under her to cup her buttock. Her 
hands and arms fluttered tentatively up to slide around his shoulders and up 
the back of his neck. That was better. He could feel the muscles tighten in 
her thighs as he lay between them, and the blood in his cock was beating 
urgently in a message he was sure she was receiving in the warm bowl of her 
belly. 

"Mmm-mmmmmm-mmm," Celia heard him groan in her mouth as his tongue lunged 
between her teeth and probed her own deeply. She could feel the hard muscles 
of his shoulders and arms bulge, and he tightened his hold on her and the 
weight of him pressing her into the crisp sheets was suddenly a dear weight 
she felt she could bear forever. Timidly her hands strayed down his hard 
naked body. She no longer felt pinned down but protected by his strong 
muscular body, wide shoulders narrowing to lean buttocks. Even as she held 
him, naked and close between her legs she wanted to be even closer. 

Web slid one hand down the silken length of her beautiful body that 
cushioned him so perfectly. He moved slightly to allow his hand to inch 
toward her mound. The soft crisp hairs were electric to his fingers, and he 
parted them gently to slide one finger down into the hot channel he'd 
already prepared. His finger met slippery, silken wet flesh, and he slid up 
and down the length of delicious slit, open and silkily liquid to receive 
him. 

"Ohhhhhh... We-e-e-e-ebbbb!" she groaned and writhed beneath him. She felt 
again the sliding delicacy of his finger in her private part. 

"Goddd... baby... stop kidding yourself! You're hotter than a pistol. I 
can't wait, baby... you're all ready... I'm going to put... my love stick 
right up in... your love nest...." He panted, catching his hard, impatient, 
throbbing prick and placing it in position right in the edge of her slippery 
vulva lips. 

Her eyes opened, and the glaze of passion was suddenly wiped with fear. 
"Oh... Web... please... don't... stop... stop now!" The tears poured afresh 
from her eyes and naked terror shone once more from her face. "I... never... 
have... please don't...." All the while she begged him not to, her pelvis 
arched up to him and her hands clutched his shoulders. If ever a woman 
needed fucking, this one did! Web flexed his knees and tightened his 
buttocks and dived into her waiting, quivering heaven open beneath him. 
Jesus! She was so tight it was like having his cock skinned by a vise... and 
he was only inside an inch or two. Christ! Maybe she was telling the truth. 
It seemed impossible that a girl this beautiful could possibly be a virgin 
at nineteen in this day and age. But she had come from a small provincial 
town. 

Celia felt hysteria begin to grip her though she had no name for the 
fragmented helpless feeling that made her want to scream and curse and sob 
and strike out. He was doing it! She could feel his great throbbing 
instrument forcing against her tender flesh. It was so huge! It would kill 
her! There'd be headlines. Her father would know that she'd finally sunk to 
the level of his predictions. 

Her body seemed not to heed the terror that was stalking through her just 
from the feel of his great pulsating organ that was inside her so tightly. 
Involuntarily and without her permission, her pelvis ground up to him and he 
eagerly forced the advantage, taking her movement as a signal. 

"God... baby... you're so tight... so good!" he grunted, burying his lips in 
her neck. "Ohhhhh... I can't wait...." She felt Web arch and lunge, and she 
was split! The pain was excruciating! 

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" she screamed a high piercing wail so loud that he was afraid 
someone would come to investigate. He covered her mouth with his to stifle 
her. Jesus! She was telling the truth! She was a virgin! My God! Her tight 
little cunt was almost painful, clenched around his prick so hard and close, 
and something had given when he'd lunged so hard. He'd felt it. The tears 
were pouring from her eyes again, and she was blubbering into his mouth 
pitifully from the pain. 

"Lie still," he commanded. "Be very still. I won't move. It's all right, 
baby. It'll stop hurting in a minute." 

"We-e-ebb," she sobbed. "Hu-u-ur-r-rts... so... terrible... please." She'd 
never felt such unbelievable pain. The knife of his huge penis had sliced 
her in two, and she knew she must be bleeding. It couldn't hurt so 
unbearably without bleeding. She wondered dimly if she'd have to go to a 
hospital to be sewn up. 

"It always hurts the first time... but it'll stop soon," he soothed, kissing 
her wet face and smoothing her tear-soaked hair away from her temples. "I 
promise you, baby. It'll stop. We'll lie very still till it stops hurting." 
He was still amazed that she'd been telling the truth. He'd heard that line 
from so many, dames who'd been at it since they were fifteen, hot and heavy. 
Despite his guilt, his long-denied penis jerked inside brutally, joyful at 
being where it needed to be at long last. A grimace of pain twisted her face 
and she wailed again. 

"No-o-o-o-o-o-o...." Celia heard the sound come out her own throat as she 
felt his mammoth organ jerk deep inside her belly. It hurt so terribly she 
didn't know how she was going to stand it. She felt Web withdraw a fraction 
of an inch, and she held her breath and then caught it... anticipating more 
agony. 

Very slowly Web pushed forward again and then eased out a bit more, feeling 
the hard rubbery walls of her vagina hold him in a biting grip. God! He'd 
never felt anything so fantastic. She had the smallest tightest little cunt 
he'd ever been in, and he longed to fuck into her frantically, for the 
pressure in his balls was almost excruciating. Suddenly he couldn't stand 
it. She'd pushed his buttons long enough! He lunged, hoping he wasn't 
tearing her too badly, but unable to stop. He had to have it now! 

The pain was excruciating as she felt his huge, filling, ripping penis 
fucking in and out of her small helpless body. She tried to will her mind to 
ignore it, to erase it, to get somehow above the torture, but she felt all 
of it, all of the ramming, raping bull organ that ravished her. 

To Celia's amazement the pain was gradually being mixed with a strange 
excitement. Somewhere in the hysterical, frantic workings of her numbed 
brain, she knew she was no longer a virgin, no longer pure, that her 
father's predictions had come true... she was a fallen woman... a whore. Her 
throat closed even tighter, and she screamed brokenly, "I... don't want... 
to be... a... whore...." 

"You're not a whore, baby," he panted. Jesus! No whore could be as hot and 
tight and fucking good as this. 

Her body and her mind and her heart had never been so assaulted with such 
conflicts and questions and unfamiliar emotions. She was never going to be 
the same after this night. Her whole life was being changed right now, this 
moment. Out of the whirling chaos in her head, Patrick's lines in the play 
came back to her... "Virginity by being once lost may be ten times 
found...." She must cling to that. She repeated it over and over in her head 
as she felt Web's great, huge steel shaft begin to ease a little deeper 
inside her. 

Web increased the slow plunder into her, trying to distract his wildly eager 
cock until she came fully to life and could enjoy it. As he kissed her, his 
hand stroked her white silken skin... her breast and rib cage and curved hip 
and thigh. As he pulled his huge impatient prick out almost to the end, he 
slipped his hand between their naked bodies and found the quivering little 
button of her clitoris. Gently he massaged it and it rose to swift 
attention, erect and quaking, and she moaned and arched beneath him. 

He wanted to go down on her and suck her frightened little cunt to wild 
orgasms, but he knew that could frighten her even more than fucking right 
now. As he massaged the tiny organ with his finger, he could fuck into her 
easier, for she was flowing fresh rivulets of fluid from deep within her. 

"Oh-h-h-h..." she moaned softly as she felt the incredible sensation of his 
finger on her there. A fluid warmth was vibrating somehow down there, and 
she wanted to be closer and closer to him. She could feel his mammoth penis 
sliding into her, and she wanted it there now. She wanted him deeply inside 
her... a part of her... joined and closer... and closer. Her thighs opened 
wider of their own accord and her hips lifted up to meet his thrusts and it 
was beautiful to hold him deep in the well of her body. 

His hand slipped around to hold her naked, firmly round buttocks and lift 
her even closer to him as he plunged into the heaven of her close-fitting 
vagina. The muscular walls were clasping and holding him now in eagerness, 
and he could begin to unleash the full force of the raging carnality of his 
bulging, thrusting, huge, blood-gorged cock that had been so long denied. 

Celia whimpered in his arms and kissed him hungrily, her tiny tongue darting 
timidly at first into his mouth. Slowly she was beginning to writhe and 
undulate beneath him, her breasts and belly and thighs and hips arching in 
turn to cleave even closer to his deepening thrusts into her moist velvet 
cavern that choked hard on his great blunt rod. His mouth was ravenously 
trying to suck the sweet nectar from her ripe lips while their tongues made 
love in lewd fucking, back and forth in time to his hardening lunges deep 
into the secret recesses of her awakening body. 

Web forced his hands beneath her shoulders and ran them under her to feel 
the smooth curves of her back and hips. He felt the raised ridges of her 
spine moving almost imperceptibly as she writhed slowly to him in a slow 
teasing rhythm. Her innocence was being overcome by the age-old instincts 
that flowed hotly in her blood without her knowledge. He wedged his hands 
under her smooth buttocks, sucked in his breath and threw his hips forward, 
feeling her receptive, moistly tight virginal hole accepting and absorbing 
his rigid prick all the way to the hilt. 

"Ah-h-h-h-hhhhhh!" she screamed, but the passion had somehow edged over the 
pain. There was a strange pride in knowing she had taken all of him into her 
body... deeply into her very depths to hold him and cherish him. She was his 
woman. She must be a full woman and bear the pain for his sake. "Oh, God!" 
Celia cried out at the almost enrapturing sensation of his thick long 
rock-hard shaft sliding deep deep deep into the seething constriction of her 
vagina. 

Web could feel his cock buried deep in her fully dilated, moist, clasping 
cunt and his balls caressing the smooth furrow between her lush white ass 
cheeks. The knowledge that he was the first... the only man who'd ever been 
inside her sweet-flowing, encasing pussy sent incredible spasms of 
enchanting bliss coursing through him. She was his! His very own! No one had 
ever plowed this field before him and he raked harder into the moist 
virginal earth of her beautiful, passionate body. There was nothing but the 
sensation of his heavy cock entombed deep inside the velvety walls of her 
tight young hole... nothing except the unbelievable pleasure of this 
wonderful, lovely girl who now wanted him as much as he wanted her. 

"Ohhhh... baby..." he groaned, and Celia still whimpered at the 
pain-pleasure of the unexpected agony of the rubbery head of his thick cock 
battering the depths of her soft yielding body. Her torment now seemed to 
incite his passion even more, and she could feel him drive even harder into 
her, grinding his pelvis harshly against her tender sensitive loins, flexing 
the head at the apex of each thrust and raising more moans from deep in her 
throat. She was entirely impaled on his rampaging cock that was probing the 
intricate core of her secret depths. She strained up to him, knowing somehow 
that the pain could only be eased now by heading straight into it and not 
trying to avoid it... and she was right. A rapturous feeling was beginning 
to slowly rise in waves of a bliss she could never have imagined. 

"Ohhhh... oh, darling... darling... take me... take all of me... just love 
me... "she begged in the throes of an ecstatic anesthesia that numbed her 
reason and judgment and blanked out the whole world except for the union of 
their wildly cleaving bodies. 

Web could never remember feeling anything to equal the building rapture that 
her eager young body was giving him and the impassioned begging she moaned 
up to him only increased his ardor. She was a giving woman. She gave and he 
wanted all she had. Christ! He could fuck her forever! Her soft young arms 
were clasping his back as hard as she could and her hands were digging into 
his flesh and he was sure she didn't even know what her own hands were 
doing. Soon they'd be digging the nails in furrows down his back! 

He felt her spread her lovely thighs to the fullest, giving him full access 
to the ravishment of her beautiful wanting pussy that he was giving the best 
initiation he was capable of. For the first time he began to understand the 
insistence down through the ages of men for virgins. It was the 
god-damnedest sensation he'd ever had! Knowing it was the first... and the 
only time this particular experience could ever happen to her... and that he 
was the one who could give it to her. Jesus! He was going out of his 
frigging mind! 

Celia offered up her whole self to Web's demanding hard body that was urging 
her onward and upward to a universe of feeling she had never before entered. 
The edge of a whirling vortex was beginning to suck her in as his pillaging 
penis drove into her sensuous depths and the passionate moans spilled from 
his lips against her throat where his lips buried and his mouth blew in 
gusts of hot lascivious anguish. Her whole body lurched and arched up to 
him, straining ever closer to some holy vision, some godhead of delight that 
awaited her. Miraculously the pain had gone as he'd predicted, and she could 
accept his huge throbbing pole completely inside her soft depths with 
abandoned rapture. She could feel him stroke in and out of her private 
secret entrance with building intensity and she drove him on... her nails 
beginning to rake his back. There was some nirvana they were striving for... 
some pleasure beyond the incredible waves that were washing her ever closer 
and closer... a goal to be reached... unknown but ecstatic. 

"Ohh... my darling..." she panted, "tell me... show me... teach me..." she 
begged, tremulous tears of an imagined inadequacy gathering in her eyes. 

Her head was flailing from side to side and her body lurched fitfully as she 
shook with the unbelievable enormity of what she was feeling and 
experiencing for the first time. Web could tell that it was going to be all 
right. Her time was close. He could hold out. By gritting his teeth and 
forcibly holding back the threatening flood of semen that was splitting his 
balls he could hold out. He had to! God! He mustn't spoil it now. 

"My... baby... my woman... just hold me... hang on to me!" He frantically 
grabbed her thighs till they clasped his waist as he fucked into her 
furiously. She responded and rode his pole like a dancer, clenching him with 
fevered arms and hands and legs, wails of unintelligible passion now 
spilling from her lips, her face contorted in the deep throes of the 
agonizing ecstasy that was opening for her. His hot wet rod fucked in and 
out of her clasping pink pussy with a sucking sound that was audible, and he 
could smell the musky odors of their mutual desire as their fluids poured 
and mixed and lubricated their mating organs. 

Suddenly she tensed to a rigid string of muscle as she arched even higher, 
and Web knew it was beginning for her. 

"Cummmmm... cummm... cum on baby cum with me... CUMMMMM!" he screamed just 
as Celia felt the vortex suck her into a blinding, exploding, whirling, 
igniting burst of rapture that showered stars in her head and new worlds 
spun off with the speed of light, colliding and exploding in sheets of light 
flashes brighter than any sun. 

"AAAAA-EEEEEE-IIIIIII-AAAAAAAAA-EEEEEEEE!" she screamed, her body arched and 
pushing him with her completely up off the bed till they hung as though 
pierced through the loins and suspended in midair by an unseen sword. 
Goo-o-o-od-d-dd! It was too much. Web felt the intricate mechanism of his 
genitals begin to scream into the agonizing release of his own orgasm, 
triggered by her exploding body. Great pressurized streams of semen flew 
from his bursting balls to roar down the constricted channels of his rigid 
penis and into her blinding-hot belly and pool deep in her vitals. He could 
feel the pumping gusts spewing out the nozzle of his cock in spending 
spraying beautiful streams. Jesus! 

His head drew back and the muscles of his neck stood out in cords, and he 
fucked the spasms of creamy sperm deep inside her receptive womb that sought 
to suck the very life from him. 

"FUCK... FUCK... FUCK..." he screamed uncontrollably, his body carrying out 
the action of his words in a frantic effort to force his prick completely 
through her clenching, rigid body. This had to be the end of the whole damn 
world. 

Chapter Two 

It was late. The gibbous moon that shone through the diamond-paned window of 
the upstairs living room was glowing in the yellowish intensity of the hours 
leading into dawn. The moonlight flooded the big old-fashioned room. The 
faded chintz furniture and scarred old oak and walnut tables glowed with the 
light best suited to their antique charms. 

On the faded Aubusson carpet in the gilded light, Rosemary Clark lay naked 
and golden. Bullock held her shoulders and cradled her head to his bending 
one so he could kiss deeply into the fountain of her mouth. His hand traced 
tenderly down the twin peaks of her pointed brown-tipped breasts and over 
her valleyed belly to the dark forest between her legs which were splayed 
open for his delight. 

She twitched as his exploring finger touched the syrupy swollen surface of 
her opened pussy. Bullock could feel the shudders ripple through her 
again... and knew it was only a matter of time. He'd already had her right 
in her own bed a while ago, and it had been even better than he'd thought it 
would be. But seeing her in the moonlight of this room on their way back 
from the kitchen where they'd had grilled cheese sandwiches... he'd suddenly 
wanted her again as bad as before. 

The green silk robe she'd thrown on to make sandwiches lay pooled in a 
silken mass where he'd ripped it from her. His mouth still holding her 
moaning, he looked down the length of her beautiful body, and he could see 
her shiver visibly as his finger slurped a hot slippery course in and out of 
her cunt that was still wet with his own cum. He felt his cock spasm to a 
hardening erection. Jesus! She was a hot piece. 

She was the kind of piece he'd vowed he'd have when he'd been sunk up to his 
ass in a rice paddy with his heart pounding out of his chest as he strained 
for the telltale sound of a foot swishing in the grass. He'd made every 
whorehouse from Frisco to Dallas on his way home, but it wasn't quality ass. 
Rosemary was quality ass, and he was going to have all he wanted. When the 
nightmares came again at night and he'd wake up bathed in sweat at the sound 
of a twig scraping the window, he'd be able to calm himself just thinking 
about his own private piece who lived right upstairs. 

Rosemary tore her mouth away from Bullock with an effort of will. Her whole 
body was tingling again and she could feel her own juices flowing once more. 

"No... Bullock... no," she gasped. "Hilda and Celia could walk in... I don't 
know where they are... you've got to go..." She reached for the green silk 
robe with shaking fingers. What on earth had happened to her? She'd had a 
few affairs. It wasn't as if she were a child with no experience. But this 
sad-eyed, young-old man was tearing her apart. She didn't want to feel this 
much with anybody. She wanted her master's degree and independence... not a 
boy back from Vietnam with no prospects. 

"Put that damn thing down or I'll rip it off again," he ordered. His face 
closed to a hard gaunt mask before her eyes. All the sadness and sweetness 
had gone from his eyes and they glittered menacingly in the moonlight. He 
wasn't a boy any more. He was a man... a man capable of anything. 

"Bullock... please..." she whispered uncertainly. 

"I said... put it down!" She dropped the offending robe and searched his 
face for a clue as to how to placate him. 

"If you think I'm going to bundle this into my pants and trot along 
downstairs, you're crazy!" He rose to a kneeling position to wave the huge 
stick of his erect penis under her nose. She could see the veins standing 
out like snaking rivers of blood just under the surface of his enormous 
prick, and the blunted end oozed a drop of seminal fluid. She couldn't 
understand the incredible change that had happened to transform him from a 
loving, sensitive boy to a hard, vicious man within seconds. 

"It takes more than one roll in the hay to satisfy a man who's almost had it 
blown off, baby," he snarled. He caught the back of her head in his hand and 
shoved her lips within an inch of his beating prick. The terror in her face 
only increased the seething anger and hurt within him. He straddled her 
naked figure and knelt before her as though about to anoint her with his 
giant sword that poled out from his hairy loins in magnificent enormity. 

"Suck it for me!" he ordered... the words sending increased desire surging 
through his veins as he saw her soft mouth so close to the head. 

"It's madness," she whispered, her hands touching his forearms gently. 
"They'll surely be home and see us. We... we don't want to make public 
love... it's too... it's unthinkable..." 

"They're nowhere around. They won't be in for hours yet. Suck it, baby... 
now... or do I have to ram it down your throat!" He jerked her head till her 
lips touched the huge blunted head, guiding the hot pulsing shaft with his 
other hand. 

"Please... please... don't make me do it... like this," she pleaded, tears 
starting in her eyes as she wondered what terrible things he'd seen to make 
him like this now. 

"Now... suck it now!" he thundered, jerking her hair with his tangled 
fingers in the soft luxury that grew in such scented abundance. 

Rosemary opened her lips to accept the Cyclops-eyed head of Bullock's 
massive bloated cock. She closed her eyes to blot out the torture in his 
face and tried to remember the sweet sad-eyed but gaily laughing boy who'd 
wooed her and loved her so well only an hour or two ago. She felt the 
velvet-soft but rubbery-hard head slip into her open mouth and heard him 
groan aloud in what might have been agony. 

Bullock moaned at the incredible sweet sensation of his prick held in her 
soft lips. His face was a grotesque mask of enraged, sadistic lust as he 
watched the subservient loveliness of the awe-stricken Rosemary extend 
trembling hands to cup his balls as her mouth gingerly ovaled around the 
head of his prick. Her eyes were closed, but he could see a tear trickle 
slowly down one cheek and leave a glinting trail. The actual feel of his hot 
hard prick and balls being caressed by her white hands and the end of it 
actually inside her warm mouth against her will was inciting unbelievable 
lightning flashes of carnality to race through him, blinding him to 
everything but the chastising degradation he was forcing on her. 

Rosemary couldn't understand the jumble of emotions that were tangled in her 
heaving breast. What had she done to make him so angry... why would he risk 
being seen like this by the other two girls... why had he closed himself so 
violently to her... why was she submitting to him like this in fear and 
trembling...? She didn't really know the answers to anything that had 
happened in the last few seconds. 

Her cobwebbed brain seemingly would not function. She clung to one thought. 
Get it over and get him out of here. If she hurried, perhaps the others 
wouldn't arrive. Oh God. They mustn't! What would they think? What would 
they report to Esther Peabody? She could be kicked out of this good flat. It 
might even affect her degree. Certainly it would affect her job as a 
teacher. Frantically her hands began to stroke the stalk of his rigid penis, 
and her mouth tightened and her tongue swirled around the head in a feverish 
motion. 

Web sat with his arm around Celia in the snug darkness of the car. There 
were still some lights on in the big old Victorian house, but they shone 
dimly as though they might be night lights. 

"I guess I'm afraid to go in," Celia said. 

"There's nothing to be afraid of, baby." 

She looked up at him, and he could see the wide pools of her eyes darkened 
in the dimness. He could feel her shiver a little despite the cardigan 
around her shoulders and his arm holding her close against him. 

"If my folks ever found out..." 

"How are they going to find out?" he asked impatiently. "Don't be such a 
ninny. You're living in the twentieth century. People don't have the hangups 
about sex they used to." 

Celia listened to his words and tried to believe them, but she knew her 
parents. Web didn't. And she knew herself. She knew she'd taken a road 
tonight that might head her far away from the life she'd planned for. 
Tonight with Web had been incredible and wonderful, but he hadn't said a 
word about marriage as she'd expected him to. In Waxahachie, Texas, a girl 
might slip and lose her virginity to a man, but it was unthinkable that he 
wouldn't even offer to marry her. It hurt terribly that he hadn't and the 
crushing load of guilt was choking the life out of her now. 

Her body felt used and abused... her breasts tender and sore, her vulva raw 
and her insides swollen and tender. She felt cheap and vulgar and common, 
and she couldn't ever remember feeling like that before. All the terrible 
predictions of her father were coming true. 

She laughed harshly and bitterly, "I guess I still have hangups, as you call 
them." 

"You're just tired, baby. Let's get you inside. You get a good night's 
sleep, and you'll be fine tomorrow." Web urged her out of the car. The sound 
of their footsteps on the walkway sounded like those of giants in her ears. 
In the semidarkness of the veranda she dug her key out of her purse, 
glancing fearfully at the other entry door that led to the downstairs flat 
of the boys. 

Finally they were inside the wide private entry hall with the stairway that 
led to the top floor. She leaned against Web wearily as they climbed 
silently up the carpeted stairs. On the landing he turned her and kissed her 
swiftly. 

Web patted her comfortingly and was about to turn to leave when he froze in 
his tracks, his hands biting into her arms. The living, room door was open, 
and in the bright moonlight were two naked people-a dark-haired girl who 
looked as though she might be Rosemary Clark and the G.I. back from Vietnam. 
She was giving him the best blow job Web had seen in a long time. Christ! 
She was really going at it! 

Celia caught her breath in a little gasp when she saw what had stopped Web 
so abruptly in his tracks. Rosemary was sitting naked on the carpet! And 
Bullock! He was naked too... and shoving his huge erect penis in her mouth! 
Oh God... what were they doing? Celia clapped her fingers over her open 
mouth to keep from crying out... and reached out one hand blindly to steady 
herself against the door frame. Gratefully she felt Web's arms close around 
her to steady her. The feel of his strong chest against her back and his 
arms around her waist was reassuring. 

She knew they should leave... go... and leave Rosemary and Bullock to 
whatever animalistic, depraved thing they were doing, but she felt rooted to 
the spot. Rosemary was such a nice girl! There'd never been any indication 
that she had ever had even... well... sexual experience of any kind. 
Certainly not this depraved, bestial, terrible... it was too awful. 

Celia watched in trancelike fascination. She could see Bullock kneeling 
astride Rosemary's naked seated body, his hand tangled in her dark hair as 
he guided her mouth over his great bull-like cock that fucked in a wet sound 
into her lovely mouth. Rosemary's hands cradled his testicles, and she was 
fondling them and squeezing them as though they were precious and valuable. 
Celia could see the huge wet bridge of Bullock's mammoth penis slide out of 
Rosemary's obviously eager mouth and then dagger home again as he groaned 
and ground his pelvis. It looked as though it must choke her to death, for 
when he sent it plunging into her mouth, it went in almost up to his thick 
patch of pubic hair. 

Web held her tightly against him, holding his breath. Celia was so full of 
guilt and remorse herself she might do something ridiculous. He could feel 
his own prick hardening just watching the really great blow job Rosemary was 
doing on Bullock. Jesus! That girl knew how to suck cock! Her cheeks were 
bloated with the great throbbing fleshy pole of Bullock's prod, and she was 
exerting all the pressure of her obviously experienced lips and tongue, for 
that lucky guy was groaning and moaning like a happy maniac. Web felt a deep 
twinge in his own gut and balls, just from watching. His hand crept up to 
close on the firmly soft half-melon of Celia's breast... and the twinge 
deepened and his other hand held her even closer against him, straying down 
to catch her sharp little hip bone. He wanted her again just as bad as 
before. The sight of the two naked lovers across the huge room like actors 
in a pornographic movie had ignited his own powerful lust once more. Just 
like a movie, he thought, for he could hear the hi-fi playing softly in the 
background. 

Her head was whirling and aching a little. Celia remembered the champagne 
and wondered if she'd had too much, but somehow it wouldn't matter... not 
with this incredible scene before her eyes. Was this what normal people did? 
She'd always believed that only what she and Web had done tonight was 
normal... and only really right in wedlock. But this... this was worse than 
dogs sniffing and rooting at their mates' genitals. Rosemary was trying to 
swallow his gigantic prick clear down her throat. She acted as though she 
were enjoying it... as though it were good! 

Celia felt Web's hand close over her breast, and she stiffened and caught 
her breath. Though the naked couple were too engrossed probably to make out 
who was in the dim doorway, Celia couldn't believe that Web would think of 
anything like that while watching the debased performance. Was he stimulated 
by their gross, obscene behavior? Celia pulled at his hand, horrified by his 
callousness. Oh... if only she could wipe out this terrible night... erase 
it from her experience as though it had never happened. His hand only closed 
tighter over her bursting breast, and that breast had the audacity to swell 
and the nipple popped hotly into erection in his blazing palm. How could her 
own body keep betraying her like this? She could even feel the moisture 
starting again between her legs. Tears of shame and anger began in her eyes. 
Daddy was right. He was right. She was a whore! 

Web slid his hand down Celia's flat belly to the mons pubis and cupped his 
hand over her tender genitals. Even through her clothes he could feel her 
nipple hard and excited in his hand. She was crying again and trying to get 
away. He knew damn well now that she'd never seen anything like the scene 
being played across the big room before. Well, time she did. 

Watching Rosemary eating Bullock's cock with such feeling, Web knew he 
wanted his own turgid, reacting prick sunk deep in Celia's lovely cheeks. If 
not tonight, then some other time, but if she saw it here he'd have an 
easier time with her later. 

He pinched her nipples to hard pointed tips of desire, his finger finding 
the groove of her slit through her clothes and beginning to rock there like 
a buoy. His pants were containing his newly attentive rod that shoved 
against Celia's buttocks like a thick sickle and vibrated with the pulse of 
hot blood pumping it to roaring life again. 

Celia tried to will her eyes away from the revolting pagan evil scene and, 
breathing hard, she tried to forcibly galvanize her own muscles into moving 
away from the rock-hard grip of Web's arms and the titillating temptations 
of his hands that played over her in such tentacled abundance. His mouth was 
burning "O's" over her throat as his tongue stabbed and flicked flames of 
searing delight along her soft white tender skin above her blouse. She could 
feel his penis in rigid pulsing enormity pressing into her buttocks and 
realized dimly that it had been beating its subliminal message against her 
for some time. 

Rosemary slid her mouth to the very end of Bullock's thick pulsating prick 
and sucked hard to get the drops of seminal juice from the tiny orifice. He 
tasted male and musky and tangy with desire. She slid her tongue then along 
the full bloated trunk of his massive rocky flesh pole, licking the entire 
length, the vein-laced hot surface from bulbous head to thick base buried in 
springy hair. Her hands took over from her tongue as she bent her head even 
lower to lick the pendulous sac of his swollen balls until his entire 
genitals were slickly wet with her saliva. She could feel his branding hands 
singe her naked flesh, throat and shoulders and breasts and sides. The silky 
tingling in her own pussy was increasing every second with her oral 
manipulations of his powerful maledom. Fitfully she ground her thighs 
together as she sat between his knees on the faded carpet. 

"Gooooodddddd!" he gritted between clenched teeth. His anger and hurt had 
evaporated with the skillful sucking of his long granite prod. It was only 
that split second when she'd tried to reject him, he'd gone crazy, crazy 
mad, and the jungle and the terror had been all round him. But it was all 
right. Oh, God, it was all right. She wanted him. She really wanted him. She 
was sucking him like he was ambrosia and she was never going to get her 
fill. But he'd fill her. The load was increasing every second and building 
to an enormous pressure that made his balls ache all the way up in his 
belly. He was going to shoot that stream of cum down her beautiful throat 
and she was going to swallow it all right down into her belly. 

She was so beautiful in the moonlight that he almost toppled her back to 
shove his powerful cock into her seeping cunt, but he couldn't tear himself 
away from her sucking, tonguing, licking mouth that knew exactly what to do 
and how to do it. He didn't let himself think about when she'd learned and 
from whom. Bullock Brand only knew she was an artist in blow jobs and he 
liked only the finer things of life and by God was going to have all he 
could before he died. 

The white-lipped vicious anger had gone from him now, Rosemary knew, and the 
boy she cared for had come back into his hard lean powerful body. Her mouth 
on his desire-steeled prick had reduced him now to a whimpering boy who 
needed her draining tongue and lips like he needed breath. She was going to 
suck his fiery young seed right down her throat... suck his sex-starved 
young bull cock till the whole load came screaming out... suck his gorged 
balls completely dry. Oh, God, she needed it. She wanted to gag and choke on 
his teeming cum and swallow it furiously into her belly. 

"Mmm-mmmmmm-mmmmmmmmmm!" she moaned around his pulsating huge prick in her 
mouth as her hands found his hard buttocks to pull him even deeper into her 
succubus-like throat. Everything had disappeared and faded to nothingness in 
her head except to serve his desperate need and her own scintillating and 
seething desire that surged hotly through her veins and nerves. 

God damn! If Web didn't get Celia someplace soon he was going to lose his 
friggin' mind! Just watching Bullock getting sucked so well and so expertly 
while his own cock was still bundled painfully inside his pants was driving 
him right up the damn wall! 

The tangled sensations that were meshing in gnarled twitchings of nerve 
endings all over Celia's body had rendered her all but unconscious. Despite 
the tactile assault and the numbing of her brain thereby, she stared in a 
trance at the writhing naked bodies in the throes of their simulated death, 
and Web's insatiable hands brought an image superimposed on the scene before 
her. The scene of their own frantic searchings in the bathroom at the motel. 
That terrible mirrored room that showed her the weakness of her ideals and 
her standards. They had been stripped from her and left her a quivering mass 
of fleshly sensation. The brilliant lights that had left no secrets about 
her own soft or Web's hard body. Adam and Eve in the chrome and mirrored 
garden of Eden. The fruit of knowledge-the terrible apple-was carnal 
knowledge, she knew now. The unbelievable temptations of the lusting flesh 
that she had always assumed she was immune to. 

Christ! Web would like to drag Celia in there now and strip her naked and 
lay her out beside the oblivious couple in the moonlight and fuck her again. 
His hands tightened on her and he was almost ready to do it when he 
remembered the unholy howl she'd put up in the motel. She'd probably scream 
her head off till the cops came. 

Celia remembered and saw in the screen of her mind again her own nakedness 
that Web had caressed to such a fever pitch of excitement. She could feel 
his knowledgeable hands at work on her now, and could hear the faint moans 
coming from her own mouth as she watched in horrified fascination the 
writhing couple across the big room. 

She knew that her own hateful body was betraying her again. The warmth was 
flowing from her loins, from her very womb deep inside her body. Her breasts 
were swelling like flowers opening to the sun and yearning for the sting of 
his mouth sucking out the nectar. She knew she wanted the close ecstasy of 
his nakedness against her again, the rapture of being filled with his 
enormous penile member, as huge as the impossible instrument that sprang 
from Bullock's loins. All the sermons she'd heard as a child on the evils of 
lust and the temptations of the flesh she began to understand. Once that 
fruit of knowledge had been bitten, you wanted more and more and more. 

Suddenly, when he was almost on the point of shooting his load right in his 
pants, Web remembered. The couch in the downstairs hall. That would do. Yes. 
God, yes! 

He bent and scooped Celia's all but unconscious body into his arms and 
carried her carefully down the thickly carpeted stairs. She clung to him, 
her breath coming in shuddering gasps, for he'd gotten her so hot and crazy 
on the landing she hardly knew what she was doing. 

He worked quickly and quietly, only bothering to jerk off her panty hose and 
shoes. Then he freed his painful, jerking penis, unzipping his pants and 
letting it pole out through his fly to a giant naked greedy rod that looked 
like an monstrous stallion's massive prod in the dim light. Celia was 
moaning very softly with her eyes closed, swaying where he put her as though 
she were a puppet that could only move at his command. He unbuttoned and let 
her skirt drop so that her blouse flapped around her naked hips. He caught 
those beautiful smooth white hips in his hands and pulled her with him onto 
the couch, lying on his back and drawing her astride his fully clothed body 
that had only his naked, purple-veined member standing up proud and 
forceful. 

Slowly he lifted her, and he could see her sweetly flowing juicy cunt lips, 
hair-fringed and delectable... and just as slowly he set her opened pinkly 
moist pussy right on the head of his great rooster cock and let her own 
weight impale her on his domineering, aggressive maleness. The feel of her 
dripping vaginal walls closing over him like a salacious, gluttonous flower, 
a man-eating plant, a fly trap, almost triggered him right then. 
Gooooodddddd! That tight-clenching, skinning hole of hers that peeled him 
down so ecstatically! She hung above him like a limp doll, pierced on his 
strutting shaft, his hands holding up her torso by the full heavy young 
breasts. 

Celia felt vacant and empty as though all her emotions had been so drained 
there was nothing left but the shell of her body that had no will of its 
own. All her tears had been shed, all her cries had been cried, all her 
illusions had been exposed. Her friend sucking on Bullock's penis while he 
howled like a madman, a primitive animal responding only to instinct! She 
could still see Rosemary's contorted face as she tried to swallow that huge 
jetting weapon into her throat. She could still feel Web's hands tempting 
her own body beyond endurance. Her whole world had shattered. The Web she'd 
cared for and was on the point of truly loving had violated her... the 
Rosemary and Bullock who'd been friends had deteriorated to lusting 
beasts... the ideals and standards she'd set for herself she had betrayed... 
her own body that housed her soul had betrayed her and she was no better 
than the lowliest whore. For even now she acquiesced and allowed Web to take 
her tingling, wanting body for his own uses. 

Her brain was numb and uncaring and her body, her yearning obscene body, was 
responding to the point that she was moaning with sheer lust and a base 
passion. She had let Web impale her on his enormous animal-like organ, and 
she sat, abiding the pain for the reward of the soaring, sensuous, jetting 
pleasure that she knew would come to her if she let him do with her as he 
would. She knew she had come to a hell that was so beautiful she could not 
turn away from its enticing inducements. 

Celia could feel all of Web's great torturing pleasure-giving instrument 
piercing her very vitals, the head of it against and pushing hard into her 
womb. She could feel him lift his hips, thrusting the thick stick of his 
penis, a fleshy rock-hard knife, up even deeper into her soft shrinking 
belly and her own flesh closing and clenching on its steel length with 
muscular fingers. 

Rosemary felt the muscles of his buttocks clench under her digging fingers 
as Bullock slammed his raging cock into her throat like a battering ram. He 
was shaking and screaming like a madman. The cries of his lust overwhelmed 
the quiet music, and even the moonlight seemed to flare more violently. 

"Suck me... love me...ooohhhhh, baby... don't let me die... love me back to 
life... I'm going... to cummmmmm... cummmmm in your... 
mouououououthththththhhh... ohhhhh, babbbbbbbyyyyyyyyy!" 

She swirled her tongue salaciously and furiously around his choking enormous 
prick that threatened to stab her tonsils to a bloody mass of tissue. Her 
own thighs were squeezing and kneading fretfully, and her sticky liquid was 
flowing so copiously she felt it must be pooling on the carpet beneath her. 
Love me back to life, he'd screamed. Oh, God. Yes. Love him back to life. 
She opened her mouth as wide as possible to gulp a long breath and then she 
set her teeth tenderly in the velvety skin of his cock head and began to 
suck even harder. 

Bullock felt the pleasure-pain of her sharp teeth bits into his sensitive 
flesh, and he felt the incredible machinery of his organs begin the 
orgiastic cataclysm of a tidal-wave climax. He tensed his ass hard and threw 
himself into her hot, waiting, blessed mouth that received him like a 
sacrament. 

"NOOOOOOOO-WWWW!" he screamed, and it was the Geronimo yell that heralded a 
frontal attack as his bloated balls began to shoot the streams of troops 
roaring out the constricted passage of his cock. The hot jets of creamy, 
seething sperm-filled semen spewed in mighty gushes, convulsive liquid 
offerings boiling down her hot sucking throat. 

Rosemary swallowed furiously, trying to take all the teeming blazing cum 
right down to her belly. She guzzled and gasped, her Adam's apple bobbing 
frantically to keep from drowning in the never-ending bursts of his spasms 
of ejaculation. Scintillating needles of delight spread (through her as she 
sucked again and again, sucking his balls dry and flaccid. She could feel 
him bucking and bucking in slower and slower thrusts as he emptied the 
seemingly never-ending load of his passion deep into her receptive belly. 

At last he collapsed, empty and hollow and replete. He fell in exhaustion on 
top of Rosemary, sliding down on her till her whole body was covered with 
his fatigued, muscle-lax one, and he cradled her, his mouth fastening on 
hers to taste his own hot cum in her mouth. If a knife or a gun or an 
explosion found his back now, it would be all right. A quick end to his 
small eternity of joy was not a-bad way to go. 

Chapter Three 

"All right. Now let's see you move," Garrett said, sipping his cognac, 
comfortably half sitting with his legs stretched out on the wide lounge that 
served as both bed at night and couch in the daytime. The huge loft had been 
partitioned so that his apartment was quite private and separated from the 
rehearsal hall. The Dallas Community Little Theatre paid for the whole 
thing, and that way he didn't have to pay rent out of his salary. Once a 
thriving dance studio in the late thirties and early forties, with a stage 
and a huge expanse of polished floor, the loft had stood vacant and defunct 
for years until Garrett had discovered it and persuaded the Board to rent 
it. 

Hilda stood uncertainly by the low coffee table. She looked even taller in 
the expensive beige pants suit. I'm not quite sure what you mean. Would you 
explain it a little?" She felt the nerves tighten in her stomach and 
diaphragm. She knew very well what she was prepared to do to get this part, 
but so far Justin Garrett had been strictly business, putting her through 
the paces, reading various scenes of the play. 

"Just come through that door, walk across the room, and sit down in the wing 
chair." Justin knew exactly what she'd come for. It had been obvious, the 
way she'd arranged to sit next to him at the hamburger joint, fawning over 
him and hanging on his every word, her thigh pressed against his in the 
booth the kids had jammed into. He knew that she believed the old cliche 
about getting ahead in the theatre, casting couches and the whole bit. He 
even knew that she had told herself that she was doing it to get this part. 
He also knew it was a lie. She was a bitch in heat and would have 
manipulated anything or anybody to get laid. Well, he wouldn't disappoint 
her, but no part was ever given to anybody for a roll in the hay. The 
persistence of the myth, however, kept him well supplied with hot young 
flesh. 

Justin watched her narrowly as she went out and then came awkwardly through 
the door and pranced affectedly across the room. She hadn't the poise of a 
giraffe. Her legs were too long for her torso, but she had good grapefruit 
boobs hung on her narrow rib cage. They bounced and jiggled, unbound by a 
bra, under the clinging tan knit top. He could see the areolas and nipples 
outlined. Sometimes these long narrow ones were hotter than the round soft 
ones, the nerves more sensitive and somehow stretched tighter on their long 
bodies. A pervading warmth glowed in his belly from the cognac. He felt his 
balls tighten, looking at Hilda's lolling breasts that looked even more 
round and full on her thinness. 

Hilda sat down and crossed her legs, her arms on the arms of the chair and 
her head thrown back against the chair back, the way she'd seen actresses do 
it in the movies. Then she crossed her arms on her knees and leaned forward 
so her breasts were cleaved and the tops showed over the scoop neckline. She 
looked at Justin Garrett nervously. He was just lying there, his handsome, 
dramatic face inscrutable and expressionless, sipping occasionally on the 
cognac, as though he were not impressed. She felt like a slave on the block 
who had not pleased the best buyer. But then she knew all about buying 
things. It was her family's money that had bought her into Peabody and just 
about anything else she ever wanted except... well, the things she really 
wanted. Grace, poise, charm, men of higher than average quality, and a 
career in the theatre... a real career as a real star. That was a power even 
stronger than money. 

"Justin," she said huskily, her pale cat eyes on his. She stood up slowly, 
"I want that part. I'll do anything to get it." Slowly she began unbuttoning 
the top of her pants suit. If he wasn't going to make a move, she'd have to. 

"Tell me about it," he answered sardonically, his weight on his elbows, his 
back supported by the mass of deep pillows. He watched her as she slowly 
unbuttoned the knit top and slid it off. Her breasts were even better in the 
flesh, the same pale tannish color as the rest of her skin and hair. Great 
soft mounds of perfectly rounded flesh capped with pale brown areolas and 
nipples like large brown pennies. Her shoulders and arms were fragile and 
slender and looked too weak to support the great heaviness of her fleshy 
breasts. 

"I want that part so badly... I'll do anything you want me to... to get it." 
Her brittle voice had lowered to almost a whisper, as though her breath 
supply were running out. 

"Anything?" The one word hung in the air between them as palpable as a neon 
sign flashing its silent scream into the night. His eyes never left her 
narrow face that seemed to hollow and pale, and her eyes assured him the 
price was agreeable. 

Hilda slid her fingertips inside the elasticized waistband of her knit pants 
and very slowly slithered them down over her narrow but sleekly curved hips 
and thighs, letting them drop to the floor and stepping out of them with 
more assurance than she'd had all evening. He wasn't unaffected now. He was 
even stiller, like a spider that has spotted its prey and waited the game 
patiently. 

Confidence began to return a little now. Men were so simple once you caught 
on to them. Young, old, rich, poor. They all wanted to fuck. All the time. 
Any time. Anywhere. For a girl without many obvious physical assets, she'd 
had her share. At fourteen she'd started with the chauffeur and had 
progressed from there. She'd fucked most of the promising young men at her 
coming-out party at one time or another, but none of them had wanted to 
marry her and in truth she hadn't wanted to marry them either. She wanted 
the power that only an actress had -adulation of a whole audience-love 
pouring out of a million hearts at once. The kind of love she'd felt tonight 
wafting on waves of applause across the grass to the spotlighted Celia. 
Well, that naive little snip was not going to get this part. Tryouts had 
only been announced in tonight's paper, so Hilda knew that no one was going 
to get the jump on her. Tomorrow night was the announced time. 

"I move better without... impediments," she whispered, skinning the skimpy 
bikini panties down and kicking them aside. 

"Move over here," Justin ordered metallically. Hilda walked slowly toward 
him, feeling the air on her nakedness, trying to assess the hard-eyed 
director, to gauge the affect her nude slenderness was having on him. 

She had nerve. He had to give her credit. Her large perfect breasts moved 
enticingly as she slowly undulated toward him. She did move better without 
clothes. Her pubic patch was exactly the same tan color as her hair. Naked, 
she had the kind of feline grace of a young Lauren Bacall, but it was 
completely hidden by her expensive but somehow unattractive clothes. The 
breasts were much better, of course. Justin couldn't remember ever seeing 
more perfect breasts. Their full perfection was even more startling against 
her slender body with the long, long legs. He felt his balls tighten 
automatically. 

He'd had to do without a lot of things in the last ten years, since his 
blacklisting, but women were not one of them. Even away from Hollywood, his 
deep trained voice and handsome heavy face attracted women. 

It had been a goddamned hard ten years, tramping around the country 
directing clods in The Man Who Came to Dinner. After the blacklisting he 
hadn't even been able to get a job on a skin flick or a spaghetti Western. 
Hollywood was a closed shop and the gossip far deadlier than in the smallest 
Midwestern hamlet. 

Strangely enough, despite the headlines that had generated the Hollywood 
gossip, none of the little theatre groups he'd directed these last lean 
years had ever heard of the Executive Convention Center or that he had owned 
it. The public memory was far shorter than the industry memory. The irony of 
it all was that what made the industry wary in 1961 would hardly be 
commented on in 1971. 

The important thing now was taking over the Peabody Academy. This was an 
opportunity that he could build a bankroll out of... a stake to go back and 
produce his own movie. Just one was all he needed, and he'd be welcomed back 
to the bosom of Hollywood. 

He slid forward to the edge of the couch and reached out to pull Hilda's 
naked hips toward him. She stood right in front of him, and her smooth skin 
was popping into goosebumps. She was losing her nerve, and he could almost 
smell her fear coming back. Without a word he spread her thighs in a 
straddled stance. Still looking at the curly tan patch of hair, casually, 
without warning, he rammed two fingers straight up in her cunt all the way. 

"That's what you came for, my dear," he whispered, feeling the warm wet 
walls of her vagina clenched around his fingers. 

"No-o-o-ooooooo!" she screamed as she felt the fingers of his huge hand stab 
her, deep into her unprepared and unready hole. She was impaled on those 
brutal fingers like a fish on a gig, and she squirmed and tried to disengage 
that terrible hook from her flesh. But he held her fast by the hips with his 
other hand, and she could feel those beefy fingers curling inside her and 
she jerked with the pain. It was even worse than that damn metal cylinder 
that the doctor used to dilate her for examinations. 

"You want to play games, and I'm rather good at games," he grunted, kneeling 
so that his mouth came even with one full breast, its brown eye pointing at 
him. He caught it in his mouth and sank his teeth into the soft pale brown 
flesh, flicking his tongue across the nipple like a lick of flame. His 
fingers jammed even harder into her tight pussy, and he began to suck the 
full tit like a great bear cub at its mother's dug. 

"Ah-hhh-hhhhhhhh!" She could feel the pain of his teeth and the hook still 
in her, and she began to feel all her confidence evaporate. This was not 
like any man she'd known. Before she'd always felt she had the upper hand, 
but not now. His powerful mouth began to suck hard on her breast, and she 
felt the soft marrow, the central essence begin to flow out through her hard 
nipple. 

His hand began a slow fucking into her constricted passage, the big fingers 
arching against her clitoris as they descended and rammed into the cringing 
hollow. Justin could feel that muscular-walled receptacle begin to seep its 
protective liquid as he sucked and tongued and bit her breast. 

Hilda gritted her teeth, sucking in her breath as she did. She tried to 
focus her mind on an imaginary scene... herself being washed by waves of 
applause from a huge audience as she stood in an amber spotlight. She had to 
get through the pain and degradation, for she had no doubt now that it would 
be a debasing experience. He'd made it clear that he was the rider, the 
master, and she would have to obey... and bear the spur. 

Garrett felt his cock twitching and swelling in great pulses inside his 
pants as though it were being pumped by some inner pulmotor. To his 
amazement, she was beginning to heat up. It didn't take much with this one, 
as he'd hoped. Yes, sometimes, these long stringbeans turned out to be the 
really passionate ones. His fingers were slippery with her lubrications. As 
he drew his fingers out, he let his index finger linger at her clit and 
massaged it briefly in a rotary motion before plunging into her again. He 
dug into her small round buttock with his other hand, pressing her whole 
pelvis into his ravishing fingers, as though he was going to ram them all 
the way through her slender body. 

The assaulting fingers held her like an impaled effigy, and she swayed, her 
hands reaching out to steady herself on his great bull shoulders. Hilda 
could feel the hard muscles under his thin cotton shirt, muscles working as 
he finger-fucked her and chewed now at her other breast. She could hear his 
rasping breath and feel the heat from his nostrils flaming out like dragon's 
breath against her flesh. 

"Ohh-hhh-hhh-hhh." The breath hissed out of her as she felt his burning 
tongue swirl around her erect nipple and his full mouth with the sneering 
sensual lips sucked greedily on her shaken breast. His finger lingered at 
her clitoris, massaging and branding a spreading scorched place in her flesh 
like a hot coal. It heated her loins with a building warmth. She threw her 
hips forward and spread her legs a little wider to receive the stabbing 
poker of his fingers. Hilda shuddered in spite of herself at the thought of 
what his cock might do to her. It would be bigger, far bigger than even his 
fingers ramming into her tenderness. 

Garrett felt his knee stiffening. He reluctantly took his fingers from her 
hot, arching cunt and his mouth from her breast and stood up. His thickness 
contrasted with her slender-ness, but he was only a few inches taller 
despite the large head and heavy body. He looked at her tauntingly for a 
minute, his black eyes sweeping her as though he were considering purchasing 
her... which, indeed, he was. 

"Undress me," he ordered. 

"But... I..." 

"Remove my clothes," he commanded again, as though she were his servant. His 
voice had the tone of her father when he ordered the cringing workers 
around, the small managers and field supervisors for his far-flung oil 
interests. Yes, Garrett would use just that tone to demand that an actress 
do as he directed. 

Timidly she put out one hand to unbutton his shirt, trying to avoid his eyes 
and smarting from his insulting voice. 

"Hurry," he demanded calmly. Suddenly she felt her anger rise like a spurt 
from a turned-on fountain. She wasn't his damned servant. She wasn't his to 
order around like a common whore. He hadn't paid for her yet. She jerked the 
last button free, ripping the cloth. 

Damned tyrannical prima donna! She turned to walk away. 

"You little bitch," he snarled, grabbing her arm and whirling her to face 
him. "That was a Sulka shirt." 

"Yes... I know," she answered coolly. Did he think because she lived in 
Dallas and went to Peabody that she was a hick who didn't know a handmade 
Sulka shirt when she saw one? Her father had never worn anything else. 

"I'll buy you another one." 

His eyes were blazing and she thought for a moment he was going to hit her 
and spin her across the room. 

"No one buys me, baby!" He picked her up by her thin arms and lifted her off 
the floor and threw her back on the bed among the mountainous pillows. She 
watched as he tore off the torn shirt and flung off his expensive gray 
slacks and monogrammed silk shorts. Her heart was beating wildly. She heard 
the heavy shoes hit the floor as he toed them off and bent to rip off his 
socks. Her eyes were nailed to his enormous rock-hard jutting penis that 
looked as thick and deadly as an ax handle. It was as huge and outsize as 
the rest of his bear's body with the thick mat of black hair covering his 
chest and growing in a "V" down his belly to spread in the pubic triangle. 
He looked more than ever like a great black bear, for his arms, bulging with 
swelling muscles, were covered with black hair too, and his hard thighs as 
well. 

He snatched the wad of shirt off the coffee table where it had fallen. "No 
one buys this!" He shook the cloth at her, "Or this." He dropped the shirt 
to grab the pole of his thick upstanding cock and wave it at her as she lay 
with heaving breasts in the hollowed pillows. 

She could see the veins standing out on the great blunt-ended instrument he 
held like a bludgeon in his hand. Even in his big hand it looked massive and 
threatening. One tear of liquid drooled from the glans and hung like thick 
syrup. A shiver of anticipation and chilling fear rippled through her as she 
imagined that pickaxing into her soft body. His testicles hung in the 
scrotum like great balls heavy with molten fire, and she could imagine the 
boiling vats spewing out of that huge muzzle into her belly. 

He dropped to his knees on the bed and straddled her body, coming in for a 
close-up. He never took his blazing black eyes from her terrified face as he 
casually reached down to grab his huge prick again and just as casually 
wiped the drooling head on her soft breasts as though she were a rag. He 
eased back on his doubled knees and caught both her heavy breasts in his 
huge paws and slid that great ax handle between them until the head rested 
right against her wind pipe. He trust it hard against her constricted 
throat, still holding her breasts pushed against the thick base to form a 
fleshy tunnel. 

"You were the one who wanted to play games, baby. Suppose you tell me just 
what game you had in mind... and I'll decide if it's acceptable," he said 
grimly. 

Hilda had never felt so humiliated. He treated her like dirt. His hands were 
bruising her tender breasts, and the head of that enormous cock, rammed so 
hard against her throat, felt as though it were cutting off her breath. She 
could feel it beating a pulse on her naked skin and, in spite of her terror, 
she felt a thrill race through her loins with his hands crushing her 
breasts. His bare buttocks were mashing her ribs, and she felt completely 
trapped. She reached up one hand and closed it over the head of his 
pulsating shaft and moved it slightly so she could talk. 

She felt the tears tighten her throat, as pressing as his penis. "I... 
guess... I didn't... I... don't know... I'm sorry," she wavered in little 
gasps as the tears came out and ran unheeded down her cheeks. 

Garrett slid down her frightened body and gathered her in his huge arms, 
digging one under her thin shoulders and one under her little round butt, 
letting his hard legs enclose hers. 

"Just don't ever start something with me you're not prepared to finish. 
Understand?" She nodded dumbly, feeling the tears sliding down her cheeks. 
"I'm not one of your panting, pimpled boy friends. But you'll never be an 
actress until a man's fucked you." His head dropped, and she felt his 
sensual mouth on hers, and he kissed her long and ferociously. She was 
trembling and shaking in his arms, but she closed her tired eyes and gave 
herself up to feeling this great bear of a man, opening her mouth under his 
and taking his thrusting tongue into her throat, sucking it in sobs and 
gasps. 

He could feel her long narrow bones under him like a colt that needed 
breaking. Her big incongruous breasts were mashed into the curling matted 
hairs of his chest. He pushed his thighs between hers and lay in the cradle, 
cupping her buttocks and pulling her up to him even harder. His tongue 
explored her receptive mouth, every ridge and hollow. His rigid cock was 
pulsing fretfully in the bowl of her little flat belly. 

Gradually her sobs were easing, and she found she liked being in this bear 
hug, sucking his hard tongue that fucked into the warm cavern of her mouth 
as fiercely as his fingers had into her cunt. Inside she could feel the 
muscles drawing in as though his great rod were already there, and the 
thought of his putting it there was not so horrifying. She was beginning to 
want it there... right up inside her, filling her void. She could taste the 
heavy cognac in his mouth as she darted her own tongue into his. They 
tongue-fucked back and forth, their breaths panting laboriously through 
their nostrils. 

Garrett tore his mouth away at last and sank his teeth just hard enough into 
her earlobe for her to cry out, "O-o-o-o-o-ooooooo!" She'd do better than 
that when he sank his bull cock in that hot little cunt of hers. 

He arched up just enough to look down the length of their naked bodies, hers 
hairless except for the muff of tan tangles and lean and fragile, the hip 
bones showing in sharp little wings, his heavy and thick and hairy with 
black curling hairs. "Put it in for me," he panted, his head still burrowed 
downward where he could see. He wanted to see it going in. Her hand came up 
obediently and clasped his huge shaft like a sheath. It jerked in her hand 
responsively. 

Hilda held the enormous rod and felt it jerk. Oh God. It was so big. She 
arched her hips, spread her legs even wider, and quakingly began to guide 
the seeping head till it touched the first guard hairs of her own in-sucking 
pussy. She had him now... hot, panting, and wanting... that's the way she 
wanted him. She'd get the part all right. He was heaving the breath through 
his lungs like a snorting bull ready to charge. Carefully she guided it 
slightly down till she felt the pushing head touch her other mouth, her 
vulva lips that were as wet as if they'd been licked by a tongue, but it was 
her own inner secretions that had slicked them. 

He was moaning now through gritted teeth as he watched his cock being guided 
by her little thin hand into her opening, moistly warm pussy lips. Justin 
could see her hips rotate slowly as she gently insinuated his giant pole 
into the very outer lips. He saw the head disappear and felt the vulva lips 
close hungrily over it. 

"GODDDDDD!" he groaned, and threw himself into her, letting the full weight 
of his body thrust his aching, burning prick all the way into her waiting 
hot hole in one lunge. 

"NO-O-O-O-0-00000000000000!" she screamed, trying to press her buttocks 
through the bed to get away from the tearing pain that ripped through her 
with the terrible stab of that enormous, great, raging cock, but she was 
sliced through the vitals. Her head twisted from side to side as she writhed 
with the terror and pain, trapped by the full weight of his massive body. 

"Please... please... stop... oh... stop..." she sobbed, her hands clawing at 
his shoulders and then pushing on his powerful biceps in an effort to 
dislodge him. She'd never felt anything like that terrible incredible pain 
of his mammoth cock plunged into her so far that she could feel the head 
pulsing hard into her soft womb. How could it be so excruciating when she'd 
had any number of men in her short life? It wasn't as if she were a virgin. 
But, oh God... this was killing her. It felt as though she were pierced 
completely through the core of her body and that the head was going to come 
out the back of her neck. She'd thought she was ready... that fucking him 
would be so easy... such an easy way to get the part... but sweet Jesus 
she'd never expected anything like this! 

Christ! She was tighter than even the assholes he'd had in his time. The 
lascivious pressure of her skinning cunt walls was clenching him to a 
premature climax. He didn't know how in hell he was going to hold on. Just 
entering had almost triggered his whole aching, lusting load right then, and 
he had never had any problem with premature ejaculation. Those narrow 
sinuous hips of her... she must be built like a greyhound inside, small and 
lean. He eased back and took a little of the weight on his knees and elbows. 
God, she was crying like a madwoman! 

He caught her mouth and tried to still her as he fucked very slowly in and 
out experimentally. Unbelievable stabs of rapture radiated through his 
hungry loins as his great aching cock was alternately squeezed and released 
from the vise of her hot wet pussy. He could feel his belly churn and his 
balls swell to tight balloons that threatened to burst the seams of his 
scrotum. 

Hilda turned her head because she couldn't even kiss him with the huge knife 
cutting into her very being. The sobs were blubbering out of her mouth, and 
a red sheet of agonizing pain was engulfing her body. She could feel him 
fucking in and out, and her legs were so spread-eagled now that she was 
getting a cramp where her left thigh joined her hip socket, and that only 
added to the pain through her box. 

"Oh... please... please..." she sobbed, digging her heels in to try and 
dislodge him by pushing up with her hips. She felt their cleaving bodies 
rise a few inches off the bed with her supreme lifting effort, but he only 
clung harder and... and fucked that terrible cock deeper and deeper into her 
pain-wracked body. 

Garrett ground his pelvis into the squirming pliant flesh beneath him, 
feeling her elastic sheath slip tightly, wetly around his thick fleshy rod. 
Her seeping vaginal walls consumed him as he raced its full length into her 
belly. His balls slapped with a resounding staccato sound against the round 
cheeks of her pale ass. 

"Aghghghghghghhhhhhhhhh!" he grunted as he worked harder, uncaring now that 
her cries hadn't stopped but only increased and her face and hair were wet 
with tears. He could no more stop that driving force of his maddened cock 
and bursting balls than he could have given up booze or the theatre. She 
wanted it. She started it, and by God she was getting it! It was too 
goddamned bad that it was more than she bargained for. How was he supposed 
to know she had such an abnormally small cunt... though he realized it might 
be the other way around. He knew his was bigger than the average prick. 
Every man thought he was, but Justin knew from locker room parades that he 
really did have a huge penis. He knew one thing for sure... this one could 
never have a baby normally if she couldn't handle his prick, big as it was. 

Hilda bit her lips now, praying it would soon be over... that he would shoot 
that load of boiling sperm into her belly and let her go. She held on to his 
great shoulders as her whole body was rocked with his onslaught, trying to 
somehow get through the pain. Her legs felt as though they were being 
sheared off at the points where they joined her hips, and she had to move 
them. She wrapped them around his waist and hoped they would stop hurting, 
that the cramp would leave, and miraculously it did. This brought her pelvis 
and clitoris higher and her slightly upturned hole into closer contract with 
his driving pole. Another miracle happened! The pain was eased even though 
he was lunging even farther into her belly. It was easier! She could even 
feel her battered vagina begin to respond, and the fucking into her was 
raising the familiar tingling sensation and radial warmth to flow. Maybe it 
was going to be all right. 

He felt her legs wrap around his body. Her whole pussy was open to him, and 
her sobs begin to ease and turn to mewls and moans. Garrett grabbed her ass 
in his hands and pounded into her waiting hole even harder and faster, 
unable to stop the bubbling, grunting sounds erupting from his throat and 
chest as he drove into her like a maniacal piledriver. Jesus! This was the 
best fuck he'd had in years because she was tighter than a goddamned virgin. 

"Yess-ss-ss-s-ssss!" she moaned as she rode even higher on his pole. She 
felt him lift her legs and drape them over his bear shoulder. She was coming 
to life! It was going to be all right. She rode higher and higher up the 
huge throbbing pole that dug at her interior like a ramming war machine. 
Hilda could feel the fires that had been banked come to life and begin to 
spark and flame. 

Suddenly he slammed into her and arched his back like a great sea lion that 
had come up for air, harpooned through the gut, hanging in mid-air, too 
pained to move, hanging there immobile and mortally wounded. 

"GOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDD," he bellowed, as he felt the mechanism begin, the 
inordinate intricacy of his manhood fulfill its function and start to peak 
and trigger a great tidal wave of hot life-giving sperm into her belly. The 
pumping of the dam began. His semen shot in scalding streams into her pooled 
womb as the great bleated balls sent gushes of hot liquid under pressure out 
of the tight constricted narrows of his huge nozzle of cock. 
"Je-e-e-e-e-e-e-ssssssssss!" he screamed. The hot sticky load rushed in 
frenzy from his swollen scrotum along the tube, the tiny close tunnel of his 
great throbbing, pulsing bull-like prick to the nirvana pool of her churning 
belly... and she took all he had into her channeled vitals. He spewed the 
thin hot streams into her clasping, sucking cunt that was still so tight it 
milked him furiously in a seemingly never-ending burst of tidal-wave orgasm 
that went on and on. 

"Ohhhhhhhh... Godddd... baby... ooo!" Justin thought it would never end. It 
felt as if gallons of his very essence poured into her in huge pulsing 
liquid gushes. The very life was pouring out of him, and he would sleep a 
long time. He rammed again and again, convulsively like a dying chicken with 
a wrung neck, still quickening in the semblance of life. He tightened and 
plunged again and again... and again... and again... until finally he only 
twitched and gasped, clenched feebly, and fell on her with the great weight 
of his utterly exhausted and completely fulfilled body that only showed life 
through his gasping, heaving chest and nostrils. 

Hilda clasped him tighter around the great bear's body, rising now on the 
wave of his quaking, erupting, explosive climax that sent the almost 
never-ending spurts of his thick hot, searing creamy semen cascading over 
her womb, washing her with torrents of blazing liquid that rose and gushed 
in the quiet pool of her belly into quickening rippling hot-springed life. 
Her pelvis rose like a bone-and-flesh bluff, thrust up into the air by his 
quaking turmoil, and her legs clasped him and rode ever upward to reach the 
ever-receding peak that kept escaping her efforts. She strained and 
clutched, her hands now on his flaccid ass as she strove to get up that 
treacherous height. Her nails dug and her thighs labored, first on his 
shoulders, then around his waist, to try and keep the rapidly shrinking 
rigidity of his great prick within her. But it was withdrawing... 
shrinking... pulling from her before she could get to that bright peak. Oh 
God. He was going to leave her high and dry. He mustn't! She was so close 
now. After all the pain and humiliation, he couldn't leave her there quaking 
and straining and trying and hurting now... not from pain... but from the 
interruption of her own so-close eruption and bliss. 

"Garrrrrretttt!!!" she wailed. "Don't leave... me!..." And then she felt his 
shrunken prick pull out with a plopping sound. She was alone and achingly 
hollow... pulsingly hollow and pulsing in futile efforts on air. 

"S'all... right... baby..." he sighed. "Don't... worrryyy..." He kissed her 
mouth feebly and then slid his mouth down her hot nakedness until he had 
slithered down between her legs and his mouth fastened on her dripping, 
oozing pussy. He began lapping up his own hot cum as though it were milk and 
he still a hungry cub who didn't want to waste it. 

She felt his lapping tongue and arched up hopefully and moaned, "Yesssss... 
lick it... lover... make me... cum... hurry!" Her hands found pillows and 
stuffed them under her ass to give him better access to her splayed and 
opened cunt that was dying of malnutrition and deprivation. 

His face was wet with his own cum. Justin licked and licked the warm 
sweetness until he could taste her secretions too, and he stabbed his tongue 
into her sucking cunt, the soggy hairs tickling his nose and his nostrils 
drinking in her tangy, woman-lusting smell. Christ! He hadn't meant to shoot 
so soon, but he couldn't help it. That viselike pussy of hers had milked 
him, and he simply couldn't hold it any longer. Jesus! This was the best 
fuck he'd had in years. 

He was reviving a little now, and he brought his huge paws up and delicately 
spread her excited flesh until his tongue could isolate her throbbing erect 
little clitoris that stood to attention and begged his indulgence. He 
touched it with his wet, practiced tongue. Hilda screamed and caught his 
great shaggy head in her hands, shoving his face harder into her ringing, 
jangling, demanding clit. 

Garrett sucked on the tiny pseudo-phallus, and as he sucked she moaned and 
writhed up to him, grinding it to him fiercely and hard, her whole body 
jerking in need. He lifted his head and looked at her soaking cunt, the 
swollen aperture outlined with wet hair, the lascivious pink folds of flesh 
open to him. She groaned and tried to thrust it even closer to his fiery 
tongue. He licked downward from the clit, throbbing and quivering, to her 
puckered, crumpled little asshole, the same pale brown as her nipples. He 
teased the tiny brown opening with his tongue,' laving it and circling it. 

She felt his tongue tickling and licking at her asshole, and the salacious 
sensation sent her even higher toward that point in time of promised 
fulfillment. "Oh-h-hhhhhhhhhhh... yessssssssssss!" she moaned, and felt his 
hardened tongue jab into the tiny orifice and jerked at the wounding. Oh 
God... it had to be soon. 

Justin fucked her anus with his tongue, jabbing harder and harder into the 
tight, muscular passage. Her head was flopping from side to side, and her 
pelvis jumped and writhed. The clenching little passage clutched his tongue 
ferociously in time to her wailing. He could feel her cunt juices flowing 
down to wet the crumpled anal opening. 

He could tell she was getting close, and his invading tongue slid back up to 
her flowering cunt. Justin rammed the stiffened taster deep into her 
clasping hollow and began fucking it as fiercely as he'd fucked her rectum. 
Her rubbery wet vaginal walls milked on his probing, fucking tongue 
feverishly, and she was almost delirious. 

"Ohhhh... lover... fuck it... ohhhh... fuck... fuck... FUCK!" Her cunt was 
slamming into his face as she struggled, jerked, rotated, and writhed 
against his pillaging tongue. All thought had left her except to keep that 
heavenly hellish brutal ravishing tongue in her sucking cunt until she came 
screaming. She was almost there. Her thighs closed around his head. She set 
her fingers in his black and silver hair, trying to devour his whole head 
with her hungry pussy. 

Suddenly Garrett felt her stiffen to a rigid, screaming, raving orgasm. His 
hands under her buttocks felt every muscle lock in cords and ridges with her 
spine set in a concrete column. Her legs shot out and quivered in mid-air, 
and her hands clamped on his head and tried to force his face completely 
inside her bursting vagina. 

"AHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGH-HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed, arching every 
muscle to the blinding explosive, bursting, careening, arcing orgasmic 
climax that threatened to end her life right then. The sensations were so 
overwhelming and unearthly that she thought she must be dying... dying in 
this beautiful, incredible bliss that must never stop. 

At last Garrett lifted his dripping face to look at her almost unconscious 
face, the tan hair damp and tangled, the eyes closed, the mouth slack and 
open. He pulled himself off her and wearily stumbled to the bathroom. 

Hilda lay for a long time, and finally her head began to function again. She 
could hear water running in the bathroom. A catlike ease and satisfaction 
crept through her as she stretched her limbs in exultation. She washed 
herself in makeshift fashion in the tiny kitchen, looking around with a 
proprietary air. The part was hers. She knew it. 

Dressed again, she lit a cigarette and waited. At last Garrett came in. He 
too was dressed, in loose slacks and a burgundy silk robe with an ascot 
tucked in the neckline. His silver-streaked black hair was in the familiar 
swept-back mane. He looked more than ever like a Hollywood director. He 
carefully took a cigarette from the onyx box on the table and inserted it in 
the holder and lit it as though she weren't even there. 

"When do rehearsals start?" she smiled smugly. 

"I'll call you a cab," he answered, turning to the desk and picked up the 
receiver. 

Hilda flew to his side. "Mr. Garrett, I said when do rehearsals start?" The 
panic poured from her strident, affected voice. 

He put the receiver back and turned to her patiently, as though to explain 
something to an idiot child. 

"Tryouts start tomorrow night. I haven't cast the part yet. And besides, I 
have more important things in mind for you." 

"But... but... you said... you promised..." she spluttered, outraged and 
beginning to boil inside. 

"I promised nothing," he answered coolly. "You assumed. I have never yet 
cast a part from a supine position." He picked up the receiver again and 
turned to dial. 

"You... you bastard!" she screamed. All her hopes, all her plans! 

"I told you I have more important things in mind for you." He started to 
dial, and Hilda grabbed the phone and flung it to the floor. It crashed with 
an abortive ring. 

"More important to whom? To you!... not to me!" She was shaking with rage 
and a fury that threatened to empty her stomach right there. She wheeled and 
threw on her trenchcoat and grabbed her purse. 

Garrett calmly put the phone back on the desk. "I'll call you tomorrow when 
you've returned to the realm of rationality." 

She knew that with every word she screamed her chances of ever getting a 
part with him were dashed, and her father had made it clear he would never 
send her to New York until she had made it locally as an actress. But she 
could not stop the stream of filth that poured from her mouth in her agony 
of disappointment and frustration. 

Hilda ran most of the eight blocks back to Peabody, her breath and her tears 
coming in spurts. The spring air chilled her wet face. How could she have 
been such a fool... such a blithering fool? She wanted to slap that smug, 
sophisticated, sneering face of his until he fell dead. She wanted to kill 
him... to maim him... to ruin him. And one day... she promised herself... 
one day... 

She ran up the front steps of the dimly lit house to the veranda, wiping her 
cheeks on her scarf. Her cork-soled sandals made no sound, but her heart was 
beating so loudly it felt as though it would wake the whole house. She 
stopped in front of the door to dig in her purse for the key. 

Among the makeup, wallet, bank books, notebooks and kleenex, she finally 
found it in the bottom. Her hand stopped just before she inserted it in the 
lock. Through the etched glass pane of the door, between the old-fashioned 
curliness of frosting in a curve of clear glass, she saw a couple on the 
hall couch. 

My God! It was Celia... that little snip Celia! The bitch Hilda knew, 
without Garrett's telling her, would get the part... her part. She put her 
eyes closer to the glass so she had an unimpeded view. Hilda held her breath 
and looked. 

Celia was half naked, seated on a fully clothed man, seated right over his 
obviously naked cock and riding him in a wild bucking fucking. Hilda 
scarcely breathed at all as she watched the modest, the naive, the innocent 
Celia thundering down on a huge prick that was slicing right into her cunt. 
The Celia who could make a whole audience want to throw their arms around 
her in love and adoration. The Celia who had every man in sight defending 
her and protecting her... as though she were a saint. Some saint! 

Web felt the naked hot walls of Celia's pussy squeezing him with what seemed 
like hundreds of muscular fingers as he fucked up and down wildly, making 
the springs of the couch creak faintly under him. Oh, Jesus! He was getting 
close. He was getting so close! He could feel the soft rubbery head of her 
womb give and depress as he thrust up hard into the wet, slippery, blazing 
hot depths inside her belly. His hands ran over her naked thighs doubled 
around him, and he clutched the smooth white flesh, kneading its fresh 
tenderness. They went up to her breasts that bounced and jellied in his 
hands, her bra pushed up over them, the silk shirt unbuttoned and flapping 
around her silky hips. There was something even more salacious about lying 
here fully dressed with Celia partially covered by the opened shirt and 
fucking into her hot receiving, clenching brown-haired hole. 

Celia's head hung and her breasts were propped by Web's hot covering hands. 
She clutched his forearms through the light sports jacket as though they 
were reins and she was riding to a victory that was almost in sight. She was 
leaning into it as she bucked up and down on the saddle of his hips, impaled 
with every motion on his driving, thundering, beating penis, and the sound 
of hooves, feverishly increasing the pace, was ringing in her ears. With 
every upbeat of that saddle with its stab into her belly, she met it head-on 
with a plunge of her shaking body, straining on to the finish. 

"Ride, baby... fuck... fuck harder... cum on... with me... Fuck!" Web 
grunted, his breath heaving out of his chest in near sobs as he arched his 
pelvis up, driving his near-bursting cock straight up to the hilt inside her 
churning belly. Her hair was swinging wildly around her face, and his hands 
were bruising her breasts in maniacal spurring fury. 

Hilda pressed her eye right up to the glass in an effort to see who Celia 
was fucking so wildly. The top of a blond wavy head was all she could see, 
and a sports jacket and gaping slacks where his cock thrust into Celia's 
pussy. Web. It had to be Web. The accountant... the staid cool young 
businessman. Hilda could see his hands with the blond hair holding and 
squeezing Celia's breasts. Her own breasts ached, just looking; they felt 
lonely and yearning. 

She'd always wanted to watch, and now was her chance. But, oh God, she 
didn't realize it could do this to her. She felt her own recently ravished 
pussy igniting again and clenching inward on itself, beginning to pour out 
moistness. Oh Jesus. 

As she saw them straining higher and higher and could even hear their 
muffled moans, Hilda felt an unreasoning jealousy and fury attack her gut. 
That little bitch-poor and from a common, vulgar family-had everything Hilda 
wanted. The power on the stage, the beauty that mesmerized people, the grace 
and poise, and now... she even had a highly desirable man who'd probably 
marry her. Hilda even imagined that Celia had got to Garrett first and 
fucked him into giving her the part. Oh God! It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair! 

She'd find a way. Somehow she'd find a way. Her mind raced as her eyes 
watched and her own hand came out to press under her trenchcoat to her 
knit-covered crotch. Celia's parents! Of course. That was the one thing she 
trembled over... the possibility of being yanked home by her Victorian, 
prosaic, protective, watchdog parents. Well, Hilda had found the way. She'd 
get Celia yanked home if it was the last thing she ever did. With Celia out 
of the way, Hilda was confident. Rosemary wasn't that good, and there was no 
one else in the little theatre group who could do it. 

They rose in tandem, meeting on the upbeat, and their bodies banged 
together, bone on bone, as their fleshly organs that fitted so perfectly 
together sawed in and out in abandoned fucking. Celia screwed herself up and 
down Web's hot rigid pole in a wild salacious dance, her body straining 
every muscle... up and down and in and out and around and around. 

Every thought had flown from her head, and her one glimmer of consciousness 
was fastened on the scintillating sparks that sent such blazing bliss into 
the depths of her aching belly. It filled and emptied, filled and emptied, 
with his raging, bullying, raping cock. She gave herself willingly to this 
boiling inferno, the depths of a lusting hell for which she knew there was 
no redemption. Her weak and naked body, her whore's body now, was quenching 
her very soul, and there was only the completion, the fulfillment of her 
base and ignoble and pliant senses. 

But it was not the theatre or theatre people or the acting out of other 
lives and other emotions that her father had thought would bring her to 
these depths... it was her own yearning, pleading, giving, aching, lusting, 
flesh. The fault was her own. Her own-and she must bear the consequences. 

Suddenly she felt Web dig his powerful hands into her smooth, silky hips. He 
threw his jerking, rigid steely-spiking maleness into the very core of her 
being, as his hands dragged her even farther onto his naked flesh rod that 
stabbed into her soft womanly womb. 

"BAAAABBBBBBBYYYYYYYYYYY!" he screamed, lifting his saddled hips straight up 
so she was impaled on the arrow of hot pulsating prick that began to gush a 
scalding stream into the very secret recesses of her lurching belly. As it 
hit her vitals with such pressurized force, she felt her own organs begin to 
flood the fountain of his hot probe with a rush of blazing excessive, 
orgasmic fluid... the pleasure-pain that she had ridden so hard to attain. 
It was a wide and beautiful plateau of emotion and sensation that drained 
the very life from her. 

They struggled on the peak-clutching, screaming, convulsing, crying, 
panting, and clenching each other in the agonizing ecstasies and celestial 
raptures that enveloped their bodies and souls as they clung together, 
almost frightened by the force and intensity of their shared experience. 
Their two beings twined and joined in a cataclysmic union that seemed to 
shake the very earth until it trembled on its fragile axis. 

Chapter Four 

Hilda put down the receiver quietly, with satisfaction, without saying 
goodbye, without identifying herself in any way. She patted the homely black 
instrument. It had served her well. She looked up from the chintz chair to 
see Rosemary and Bullock walk sideways together into the wide sun-flooded 
living room. They were locked together in a long kiss, and their arms were 
twined around each other. Bullock's hand was swallowed up in the low peasant 
blouse that Rosemary wore. 

At last their mouths broke away and they looked at each other long and 
deeply. That bastard Bullock. He hadn't looked at her that way last night 
when she'd gone to him in her need. Hilda had given him a crazy story about 
being locked out. He'd probably been up here all evening and had just come 
down the back stairs when she arrived. The look he was giving Rosemary now 
would explain why he'd been so adamant about keeping quiet and the 
perfunctory fucking he'd given Hilda on the kitchen table. 

Well, just wait till the cast party. She'd show Rosemary. And Celia. And 
Bullock. Especially Celia. Hilda smiled to herself in anticipation. Garrett 
was a bastard too, but there was no denying he was a smart one. She knew 
that handling the arrangements for the cast party was only a consolation 
prize, but what he didn't know was that she was going to wind up with the 
part, too. 

Celia toyed with her cheese souffle and salad. The bright sun pouring into 
the corner booth hurt her eyes, and her heart felt like a concrete rock in 
her breast. She knew her humiliation would be final and complete if she 
pressed Web further, but she couldn't stop herself. 

"I thought we... I... mean... it's usual..." She faltered, swallowing the 
huge lump in her throat and looking down at her food to hide the tears that 
trembled on her lashes. 

"You thought we'd get married. But you knew all along that I'm trying to 
open my own business. You knew I had no intention of marrying yet." He threw 
down his napkin in irritation. The silence was so thick and cloying he 
couldn't breathe. He grabbed a cigarette and lit it, looking out over the 
restaurant at the lunch crowd. 

"I guess... I thought... circumstances could...sometimes change... that 
maybe you'd want..." Celia stopped, turning her head to look out the window 
as though she were intent on something in the parking lot. Her hand covered 
her eyes from Web, and the shining hair swung forward to cover her cheek. 

"Look... what we had was something you wanted, too. I wasn't the only 
beneficiary, you know. And I'm perfectly willing for things to continue as 
they are... but I'm not ready to be tied yet. And I don't think you're ready 
for it, either. Live a little. Have some experiences." 

Celia slid her huge dark glasses on and blew her nose discretely. She looked 
up at him then with the darkened glass obscuring her eyes completely. She 
tried to smile, but her mouth trembled and her lips would not function. "I 
think I've had all the experience I need." 

Before he could stop her, she slid from the booth and made her way swiftly 
out the restaurant door and into the bright Texas sun. When the door swung 
shut behind her to hold in the cool air, he could still see her retreating 
figure behind his eyes. He ground out his cigarette savagely, and only then 
did he see she'd tucked a dollar bill under her plate. Web left it for a 
startled waitress and walked quickly up to the cashier and placed the right 
amount with the check. He slammed through the door into the hot muggy 
interior of his car, gunned it into action, and squealed the tires as he 
turned out of the parking lot to go back to work. 

Celia had no real memory of how she got through the afternoon at the shop, 
waiting on customers, checking invoices, doing the unit control books from 
yesterday's sales slips, changing the window display. It was all a blur, and 
her stomach was a knot of pain. 

By the time she got home after work her head was splitting and her insides 
still churning. Nausea was sweeping her. She fell into the smaller bedroom 
that was hers, threw her bag on the marble-topped bureau, and collapsed on 
the heavy white bedspread. Over and over the scenes played behind her closed 
eyes, rolling and changing, superimposing and montaging. 

Was it only yesterday that she had been Celia Brown, budding young actress, 
good daughter, diligent student, working girl? Her world had collapsed, her 
body changed, her heart broken, and her hopes gone forever. She sobbed then, 
and the tears poured out in sheets. She wanted to die. 

Celia woke to a pounding that echoed in her head. Wearily, she struggled 
from the bed and opened the door, leaning on it for support. 

"Celia, baby!" Patrick held his arms wide as his Irish grin. "Have you 
forgotten the tryouts tonight?" 

"I'm not going," she mumbled. 

"But you have to. You're sure to get the part... Hey, baby-what's the 
matter?" He took her by the shoulders and bent a little to peer into her 
face. It was tear-streaked and the lipstick was gone. Her eyes were puffed 
and swollen, her hair uncombed. 

She shook her head. "I'm just tired," she sighed. "And don't call me baby." 

"Well... never mind, Tender." He held her chin in his hand and looked over 
her face. "All that pretty face needs is a quick wash, a dash of lipstick, a 
comb through your shining crown, and we'll be off." 

She felt her throat close again. Patrick was being so kind. He'd dubbed her 
"Tender" almost from the day she arrived but, she realized, he only called 
her that when she seemed to be in distress. "I can't, Patrick... I'm 
sorry... you go on." 

"I'll do no such thing." He pushed her before him down the hall to the 
bathroom. "Now, if you want me to wash your face for you, I can do that, 
too." She shook her head and tried to smile, and he bowed out the door. 

Celia still didn't see how she could possibly manage to go, but she washed 
her face anyway and that felt a little better. Slowly she brushed her hair 
and, fingers shaking, stroked on pale lipstick. The mirror showed her the 
same Celia she'd always seen, except for the puffiness and some fatigue 
smudges under the eyes. How could she look the same? How was it possible to 
look the same as she had yesterday... when so much had happened, so much 
ruined, so much felt and thought, so much gone? She could never ever be the 
same again... that Celia was gone forever. "Mirror, mirror on the wall..." 
she murmured, and she saw herself in the mirrored room with Web's hands 
sliding over her naked flesh. 

The words hung in her head like some awful dooming banner proclaiming her 
hopelessness. 

Patrick was pounding on the door and yelling. She opened it. 

Despite her protests, Patrick took her to a small restaurant near the 
rehearsal hall for chili. It tasted good, for her lunch had been left almost 
untouched. The tortillas were hot and buttered, and the chili left stinging 
bites on the tongue. Patrick, with his mimic's charm and inexhaustible fund 
of stories, soon had her laughing in spite of herself. 

Celia looked around at the patrons. They were working people, teenagers, 
tired housewives, a few lonely old people... the cross section that she 
supposed Waxahachie was, too, but it had never looked even this interesting 
to her. It had never seemed to have even this much color and variety... and 
she realized that probably one way or another she would soon be back there 
for life. Entombed. 

The night sky was punctured with a few stars. It was warmer than it had been 
after dark for the last week. Celia leaned against Patrick and was grateful 
for his arm around her shoulders as they walked along the deserted sidewalk 
under the old elms. She was so tired... so terribly tired. 

"I still say Garrett was a bastard tonight. A first-class bastard. He didn't 
make anyone else stay and do one scene fifty times over. He was trying to 
break you!" Patrick said solicitously. 

"No... I think it was just me. I just couldn't seem to get it right. I knew 
I shouldn't have come. Too much has happened all at once." 

"Look, Tender. You're the best actress in the city of Dallas, and don't 
think Garrett doesn't know it. You got the part, all right. It just makes me 
furious the way you had to get it." 

"I felt like such a fool. Standing there crying. I don't know. I just 
couldn't seem to stop." 

"Hell, anybody would have cried with the going-over he gave you!" 

Celia looked up at Patrick, and somehow his words made the tears start 
flowing again. She could still feel the sting of Garrett's tongue-lashing. 

"Hey, it's over now. You don't have to cry now." He squeezed her closer and 
kissed her hair near the temple. He steered her into the quiet park without 
her even noticing. Her eyes were on her feet. Patrick found a path that led 
down to the trickle of river and the dammed-up lily ponds. His favorite 
bench was there, backed by a walled partition so it formed a private little 
three-sided cabin with a picnic table in the center. 

He'd known ever since he knocked on her door and dragged her out this 
evening that something very shaking had happened to Celia Brown. His 
instinct, the strange intuitive thing that made him know when to press the 
advantage in a political campaign and when to hold back, told Patrick that 
now was the time to press Celia Brown. She was as vulnerable now as a snail 
without a shell, a newborn bird without a mother. And during the tryouts 
Justin Garrett had softened her up even more. 

Patrick sat down on the bench and pulled Celia down, too. With his back 
braced against the partition and his desert boots on the picnic table, he 
put her feet up and turned her against his chest as though she were a child. 

"Now, suppose you tell old Father Flanner here what's troubling you." 

Celia lay with her legs along the bench and her head and shoulders tucked 
against Patrick's chest. For the first time, she began to feel as though 
someone cared that she was miserable. The intense searing emotions that 
could only be that shaking to a nineteen-year-old girl came pouring out of 
her in a great sobbing flood. 

"Oh... Patrick... I'm no good... I've ruined... everything... forever..." 
The hurt came out in a chest-heaving pain that wracked her. Patrick soothed 
and rocked her, holding her tight against him as though she were five years 
old with her small world shattered. 

In the dark she could feel freer to let go, and Patrick let her rave and sob 
and cry, smoothing his hands down her body gently in monotonous sliding 
motions. He could feel the tenseness gradually begin to ease from her as he 
caressed her from shoulderblades and neck to waist and hips and thighs to 
calves. 

Even before her broken words and phrases and sobs made it clear to him what 
had actually happened to her, the line he spoke in the play to her every 
night kept ringing in his head like a message... "Virginity once lost may be 
ten times found..." He'd help her find it ten times over! 

The smooth sinuous curves of Celia's lovely body under his hands, so close 
and warm against him in the warm dark, with the frog's croaking so near at 
the water's edge, sent a hot thrill chasing through Patrick's veins. It was 
like the power that surged through him when he knew his words were swaying 
an audience, bending them to his will. His hands were now wielding that 
hypnotic power over Celia's lovely body. 

Very softly, as her words began to fail and the sobs to ease, he recited 
poetry to her while his hands continued to work their soothing magic. 
Snatches of The Rubaiyat, The Prophet, the Sonnets, Rossetti, whatever he 
could remember. 

Celia lay cradled against Patrick's warm chest, almost soothed to sleep now 
by his voice and his smoothing hands and his lips kissing her face and hair 
in the pauses between the words. Lovely words that comforted her, warm kind 
hands that eased her. They would walk home soon, she told herself, and she 
could sleep and blot out the last terrible twenty-four hours. Such nice 
words Patrick spoke... how kind he was... 

It seemed quite natural when his lips found hers and his warm hand slid down 
her throat and slightly inside the neckline of her dress to her shoulder. He 
caressed the tender, sensitive skin around her collarbone. Patrick's mouth 
went from her lips to her cheeks and both eyelids and temples and ears and 
jaw and throat and back to her mouth. His lips were very gentle and tender. 
She smiled faintly to herself in the dark, remembering that he called her 
"Tender." 

It was so dark that she couldn't see his face even when she opened her eyes, 
so Celia kept them closed and felt the kindness in his voice and warm jaw 
and chin and cheek and lips and hands. The frog talk in the background and 
the faint rippling sounds of the water were reassuring in their monotony. 

Patrick eased his hand to the front zipper of Celia's dress, his voice 
reciting again and his mouth kissing, and he slid it silently down. His hand 
went back to her throat and started its slow descent to her breast, her full 
voluptuous breast that he could still see creaming out in round ripeness 
above her costume last night. He worked very carefully, for he mustn't 
terrify this soft little unshelled snail. She might melt away. 

Celia sighed, so close to sleep now that it was an effort to keep the 
consciousness from drifting away inside her head. As Patrick's lips found 
hers again, his hand closed over her breast so softly that at first she was 
hardly aware of it. There was only a comforting warmth where there had been 
none. A soothing comforting warmth that flowed through her veins when she 
was so close to sleep and when she was so tired and... 

"Poor little Celia," he crooned in a whisper against her opened mouth. Then 
he slid his lips down her throat as his hand rounded and cupped and caressed 
her breasts through the thin net bra. Growing bolder, his hand dipped deeper 
inside her opened dress to slide down her rib cage and over her naked belly 
above her bikini pantyhose. The firm young skin on the bowl of her little 
belly was warm satin under his exploring palm and fingers. His hand 
communicated to his excited brain by touch what she looked like, and he 
could see her white silken curves in his head. 

Celia's mouth opened under Patrick's as he kissed her more firmly and 
insistently. She was warm and snug and comforted until his warm hand slid 
under her bra and touched her naked nipple that popped instantly alive and 
rigid with anticipation. Suddenly she was aware of what he was doing... of 
what he had been doing! 

"No... Patrick... no!" Instantly she was alive and conscious and protesting 
as she tore her mouth away and tried to sit upright. Celia felt herself 
being pressed down again under his now hard hands that restrained her and 
held her. Oh my God! He'd been seducing her the way Web had... and her 
traitorous body had responded! 

Celia strained and fought to get away, but his mouth held hers with his 
tongue now forced between her teeth deep in her throat. His hard muscular 
arms pinned her flailing arms and legs, and he held her like a slippery 
writhing fish. No! No! But he locked her to him in the vise of his arms, and 
she began to whimper deep in her throat. 

Despite her fighting and struggling, Patrick knew he would catch the fish, 
for he had the advantage now and he was going to force it. Still holding her 
down in his lap with his arm and hand and mouth, he slid his hand up her 
dress to catch the top of the bikini pantyhose. She slithered and writhed, 
moaning as he tried to strip them down. 

Celia could feel what he was doing and knew his strength far exceeded hers. 
She was almost choking on his hard tongue that fucked relentlessly into her 
mouth, and her breath was coming in painful sobs through her nostrils. She 
knew in the very marrow of her being that he was going to win, that he would 
have his way, would do with her whatever he wanted, and she would be 
helpless to stop him. Oh God. She remembered how kind he'd been, and she'd 
been such a fool to trust him. It was true! Men only wanted one thing of a 
woman... and one thing only! They'd do anything to get it... any dirty 
underhanded, deceitful thing! 

Even as she raged and fumed inwardly, she also knew deep within her that her 
body responded, wanted it, participated... that it was not totally the male 
responsibility. Her own lusting flesh helped the rutting male. Her despair 
was overwhelming. She was ruined forever and would be buried alive in the 
mediocrity of Waxahachie, Texas. Suddenly, there seemed no point to 
anything. If Celia Brown died now or further besmirched herself, it could 
not matter. The damage had been done. 

Patrick was still working at her writhing hips, and he pulled his mouth away 
to catch her heaving breast with the bra slipped up above it. He could see 
it now, for the moon had escaped from the cloud cover. That beautiful white 
full life-giving breast shuddering in the moonlight. With a deep groan, he 
bent his head to it and tasted her silken flesh in his mouth. 

Celia felt his wet hot mouth close on her breast as he drew the nipple into 
his sucking throat. It was that blessed degradation that sent a deep 
interior ambrosia flowing through her and out into his drawing mouth. Oh 
God. What did it matter now? She was crying hopelessly, for she could feel 
her nipple hard and quivering in his mouth and she wanted it there. 

A sudden rage swept through Celia that shook her even harder than the crying 
and the sobbing. She caught his head somehow in her hands, pressed it to her 
flaming breast for a long moment, and then tore it away. "Let me up... just 
let me up for a moment." Celia managed to struggle out of his grasp and 
stand, feeling the fury harden her like molten lava cooling. 

She leaped up on the picnic table and began tearing her dress off and her 
bra and her pantyhose that were already hanging on her thighs. The rage had 
seized her, and she sobbed and cried and tore off her clothes like a 
madwoman. A shaft of moonlight came through the trees and bathed her in its 
golden spotlight. 

At last Celia stood naked in the soft light. Patrick swallowed and choked! 
He had never seen anything more beautiful as she stood in the eerie light 
like a vision of some unearthly beauty, and he was frozen in awe for a long 
moment. The convex and the concave, the hillocks and the valleys, the secret 
hollows. She stood on that improvised stage, carved by the light like a 
living breathing goddess! 

Patrick could see the amazing complexity of arms rounding into shoulders 
that gradually rounded and swelled into the full heaviness of her ripened 
breasts. They were rose-tipped and proud, upright on the slender stem of her 
ribs, that narrowed to her fragile waist and then swelled so gradually to 
rounded hips and long perfect thighs that swept down to beautifully boned 
knees and on to rounding calves and delicate ankles and feet. He knew now 
what being stunned meant, for he was stunned, excited, and a terrible 
urgency was building in his already fully aroused loins. 

If it was a role she played on her stage in the spot of the moon, she could 
never have a better audience. Patrick knew too well how he could be affected 
by a truly great performance. It was what was going to make him a public 
figure to be reckoned with. He was going to change the whole damn crazy 
world by just such tactics... giving the people some drama, some emotion, 
some conflict that raised the blood in their sluggish veins. 

Celia looked into the darkness to Patrick, still crouched like an animal 
ready to pounce, and the blinding hot anger was still in her. "There!" she 
screamed scathingly, her legs planted apart, hands on naked hips. "Isn't 
this what you wanted... what you all want... the only thing you want!" Her 
hands came up to cup her breasts to him in offering, and then she ran them 
down her smooth belly and down her wide standing thighs. "Well... here I 
am." Her arms were flung wide and her head was thrown back. "Just waiting 
for you!" A sob caught her, and it was as though she'd taken an arrow or a 
knife through the belly. She crumpled slowly down, sitting in the pool of 
her clothes with bent head, shaking in the infernal depth of loneliness and 
despair... a living statue to the hell within the heaven of the human 
spirit. 

The frogs croaked questioningly, and Patrick moved then. He leaped up to 
gather her quaking, hopeless naked body in his arms. The feel of that naked 
girl in his arms, pressed to him so close, and the power of her as she'd 
stood there, tightened his throat feverishly to smother his pitying 
sympathy. Oh God, this was a night that would persist in his memory until he 
died. 

Patrick was so moved by the little drama she had played that he was caught 
up in it too. "You're the dearest, sweetest, loveliest..." He kissed her 
deeply and fiercely, his hands moving over her silken curves like sensors, 
shoulders, back, arms, legs, breasts, belly, throat. She lay quiet and did 
not fight now in his arms. Celia let his hands stray wherever they would, 
and Patrick felt they could never feel enough of her smooth, warm nakedness. 
Her body still convulsed in little jerks with the easing sobs, but her 
nipples popped out eagerly in his hot palms to hard burning little poker 
tips of fire. 

Celia could feel Patrick's laving hands and hungry mouth urging her helpless 
body back to life with expert ministrations. She could feel his hot hands 
warming her and coaxing her tired flesh. She let him do what he would. It 
could not matter what befell her body now, the hollow shell, the empty 
prison. 

One hand around her back and the other hand cupping her fully firm mound of 
breast, his mouth sunk on her yielding one, Patrick awkwardly removed his 
shirt except for that one arm. Leaning, he pressed her down until she lay 
stretched on the table like a marble effigy in the moonlight. Quickly he 
shucked the rest of his clothes and lay down beside her. His huge upstanding 
jerking prick looked like a thick murderous weapon against her soft passive 
whiteness. 

Catching his breath at her naked loveliness, he leaned on one elbow and 
looked his fill down the length of her incredible beauty. Everything was 
fashioned for his delight... the firm hills of her white and rose breasts, 
the sloping plain of her waist dipping to the shallow valley of her belly, 
the dense forest of her mons pubis, the long round ridges of her thighs that 
joined at the gates of heaven. He hardly knew where to start in his 
explorations. Whatever he had done he had done it right, for there she 
lay... the beautiful creature called Celia Brown... all his! 

An insinuating tingle undulated up Celia's inner arm, the tender sensitive 
skin licked by Patrick's hot tongue from her elbow to her armpit. She 
shivered and her breath caught and held as that tongue continued around her 
armpit and down the little hollow and up the steep mountain of her breast to 
the summit of her nipple and the tongue and mouth claimed it for Patrick. 
"Ah-h-h-h-h-hhhhhhhh!" She felt the soft surrender come out her own mouth as 
his hand circled the base and his hot mouth sucked and worked at the peak. 
The tongue chased maddeningly around it and then over the aching sensitive 
tip, and all the while the lips were powerfully sucking. 

Patrick felt a surge of power thrill through him, the power that was him, 
for he had brought her to this complete surrender. His cock was jerking 
wildly against her naked hip as his mouth ravished her breast and his hand 
held the soft flesh up to his hot starving mouth. Lungs were pumping ragged 
breaths through his nose and her breast was heaving under him, rising up to 
him. 

Moving to the other neglected breast, Patrick insinuated his head onto her 
arm and it circled his head, pressing his face into the soft pillow of her 
rising breast, the nipple in his mouth. He lay sucking contentedly as though 
his belly were filling with the nourishment it needed. His hand fondled and 
caressed, feeling the soft contours of the other breast, the hip, the waist, 
the belly, and the long sleek thighs. 

Celia gave herself to the racing streaks of lewd excitement that darted like 
quicksilver through her veins and nerves. She was being both drained and 
emptied... filled and surfeited by his ravishing hand and succubus mouth. 
Her arms and hands clutched his curly red head to her greedy breast that 
arched ever closer to the warm wet titillations of his bold aggressive 
tongue and lips. A poignant drawing in of her vaginal walls sent a yearning, 
wanting, pleading sensation pulling through her whole belly and abdomen. 

Kneading and smoothing and squeezing the pliant flesh under his fingers, 
Patrick's hand scouted cautiously down her firm belly to the crisp pale 
brown forest growing densely on her mound of Venus. He inched ever downward 
until his fingertip touched her aperture at the upper end and found the soft 
velvety flesh damp and moist. A little further and it became wet with the 
dew of her love juice, slick and slippery and honeyed. His sliding finger 
stroked back and forth, tracing the whole narrow furrow that was preparing a 
way for his burgeoning rod, opening and greasing his way into the secret 
passage. 

"Oh-h-hhhhhh... sweet... ohhhh... God," groaning, Patrick rolled half onto 
her yielding body and kissed over her throat and shoulders and breasts and 
down her ribs and belly, covering her body with saliva-wet warm-lipped 
kisses until he reached the little triangular curled mat of hair. He kissed 
that too, and the tender skin where thighs joined trunk. At last he lay 
between those beautiful trembling thighs and gazed at the folds of pink 
flesh, gleaming invitingly in the soft light. The lips were swollen and 
sopping, drenched and bathed in the lubrications that seeped from deep 
within the recess to spill a hot sticky mantle of fluid over her pussy. 

Celia could feel his hot breath searing her privates, but she was still 
floating in the glow of his hands and kisses, encased in a globule of warmth 
like a drop of oil that floated on the surface of deep water. Nothing but 
the warmth and lassitude and delicious feeling of ease and yearning was 
important. Suddenly she felt a searing blazing poker-hot probe rake her 
vulva from bottom to top. She arched and screamed, her scorched flesh 
rising, "No-o-o-o-o-!" Oh dear God! What was he doing? The globule was 
broken, and a thousand sparkling droplets separated and became her jangling 
nerve ends. 

Raising her head, Celia looked down to where Patrick lay between her opened 
thighs, his hands pressing her even wider to a split, and she saw his head 
dip and felt the flame lick along her slit again. God in heaven... he was 
licking her privates... licking her vulva... her pussy... her snatch! She 
thought she had sunk to the depths of degradation before when Web had 
brutally showed her the weakness of her own rutting body before that 
terrible mirror, when he'd taken her brutally and left her blood on the 
sheets, when she'd watched Rosemary sucking on Bullock's penis and Web had 
taken Celia again and she had ridden him like a slut... but this... this was 
depraved and sick and lewd and perverted! She knew that Lesbians did 
something terrible, but she had never questioned or asked what it was... not 
wanting to know what sexually sick people did to each other. Celia could not 
believe that Patrick could want to do what he was doing! 

Celia was frozen in hypnotic fascination and horrified disbelief as she 
watched his head dip again to her splayed flesh... her own flesh that she 
had never seen so close in its entirety as he did now. A moan came out her 
throat as she felt his hard tongue dart inside her opening like a 
hummingbird stabbing its beak into a flower's center. Whimpering, she tried 
to edge away, but his hard hands clenched her buttocks, turning her even 
closer to his stabbing tongue that was sending electric shocks at regular 
intervals zigzagging through her whole body. "No-O-O-O-OOOOOOOOOO!" she 
screamed, and arched her back, her head falling back to blot the perverted 
scene from her eyes... but the insane licking and plunging continued and she 
was trembling like that ravished blossom. 

"Mmm-mmmmmmmmmm-mmmmmm," she heard Patrick groan, his hot mouth now 
exploring her swollen, quivering slit in its entirety... licking, kissing, 
sucking, stabbing... until she felt herself a mass of reacting tissue that 
paid no heed to her feeble brain's horror. Her treacherous, traitorous, 
villainous body liked all the sick, insane, maddening, lewdly degrading, 
demoralizing, tantalizing things he was doing between her legs. 

Patrick licked and kissed and tongued the whole pulsating pinkness of her 
hot swollen-lipped cunt that he held up to his voracious mouth, for his 
palms supported and held her mooned ass cheeks in his hands. His little 
finger traced down the crack between her rounded buttocks to the tiny 
crumpled bud of her asshole. Celia arched her whole dripping opening pussy 
to his rampaging tongue that sank into the milking, quivering, clenching 
meaty walls of her secret hollow. She was going out of her mind, and he'd 
hardly touched her quaking little clit yet! This was one hot 
nineteen-year-old almost virgin! 

Licking along the hair-fringed lips, Patrick insolated the erect tiny 
pseudo-phallic clitoris with his tongue, and he thought she was going to 
flop completely off the table! "Ahhhhh-ggggghhhh!" she screamed, catching 
his head in her hands, grinding her pelvis up to his pillaging tongue, and 
throwing her thighs even wider. 

Jesus! Just touching her shaking little clit did this to her! Patrick closed 
his lips around it and sucked the tiny organ hard into his wet mouth, 
savoring the hot rutting woman smell and taste of her dripping, excited, 
screamingly alive arousal. It was obvious her lover boy hadn't gone down on 
her and initiated her properly. The thought sent prickles of lascivious 
anticipation up Patrick's spine, and his cock jerked sympathetically. God! 
She was going to come right off the pad! With renewed enthusiasm he sucked 
even harder on her erect clit that throbbed in shivering convulsions. The 
cries that spilled from her throat had scared the frogs into silence. 

"Ohhhhhhhhh... ahhhhhhhhh... nooooo... oooooooo... pleasssssssseeeeeeee 
Goddddd!" Jolts of rapturous ecstasy were hurling through Celia's weakened 
body like lightning shafts through a night sky, and she thought the whole 
world must be igniting from the sheer celestial bliss that coursed through 
her. She heard screams and blubberings and wailings emit from her own lips, 
and her consciousness was slipping away into some black void. Without her 
knowledge, her hands pressed Patrick's face into her aching hole, for she 
could never be close enough to that ravaging mouth. 

Sucking hard, Patrick's teeth began to set gently around her maddened 
clitoris, raking it and biting it. Celia was flipping and flopping and 
grinding his face into her soaking, milking, blazing suctioning cunt, her 
ass reaching higher and higher. He rocked his face and tongue in and out and 
began a frenzied fucking into her hot soaking fleshy depths. 

Suddenly Celia's hands raked his skull, her fingernails leaving narrow 
furrows in the scalp. Her hips raised completely in mid-air and she 
screamed, "AAAAAAA-A-A-A-E-E-E-E-E-E-I-I-I-I!" Patrick continued his crazed 
tongue-fucking of her opened pussy, tasting her orgasmic juices pouring into 
his hot mouth like lazily erupting lava. 

The insane, unearthly infinity of wild pleasure that filled Celia's loins 
was fusing the stars into planets, and new worlds were being born. Eruptions 
were occurring, and flowing molten energy from deep within her belly was 
running out in rivulets of rapturous, raving sensual pleasure that was an 
ecstasy which was bringing unbidden tears to her eyes and closing her 
screaming throat. There was no room for breath, and she would surely die. 

Still clutching her convulsing clit in his mouth, Patrick scrambled around, 
bringing her thigh over his head. While she was still in the death that is 
life of her orgasm, he had to get his prick into the haven of her hot mouth 
or he couldn't stand it! He turned Celia's all but unconscious body quickly 
and guided her mouth down over his huge, bloated, long-suffering cock. He 
pushed Celia's unheeding mouth down till he thought he was going to shoot 
the whole load right then! The skinning sheath of her hot cavernous soft 
mouth over his ramming pole was almost too much! 

Wearily he lay back and pulled her legs apart again and jabbed his tongue, 
hard and slick with her cum, deep into her palpitating pussy that was still 
screaming in a dying ecstasy. Patrick felt her choke on his thick thrusting 
shaft that was jerking for release and oozing mightily. He reached and 
shoved her head back down again over his naked needing cock. "Suck it for 
me. Tender... I'm going to make you cum again... cum with me... suck it." 

At his lewd command, Celia roused enough to realize that her throat was 
crammed with a fleshy rod and that there was a strange sticky tangy taste in 
her mouth. She opened her eyes to see that the base of his great thick 
lusting penis was protruding from her own mouth... just as she'd seen 
Rosemary's mouth almost cover Bullock's enormous thing. There were red hairs 
almost touching her nose, and Patrick was raising his hips and stabbing her 
tonsils. Mewling sounds, muffled and unintelligible, came from her own still 
pulsating pussy! She was lying on top of his hard body, and his face was 
sunk again into her flesh, and she could feel the stiff tongue fucking into 
her still-dripping hole. Oh God! This nightmare of depravity would never 
end! 

Celia's hips were grinding down of their own accord, and with one orgasm not 
quite gone she could feel the next beginning to raise and prepare for the 
race to even another enchantment. How could it be possible? Her churning 
belly proclaimed the dying spasms of one, and her insatiable hole was 
already trying to push close enough to Patrick's masterful tongue and mouth 
to seek another orgasm. Oh, there was no doubt now. She was a slut, a 
demented, depraved, raving slut! 

Patrick lifted his hips to shove his raging, demanding, blood-gorged organ 
into Celia's lovely soft wet mouth and then let it slide partially out as 
his butt lowered. He fucked it in and out several times to give her the 
idea, while he fucked her dripping cunt with his own stiffened tongue. A 
splurge of delight roared through his taut nerves as he felt her mouth begin 
to take hold and suck on his throbbing, aching, needing prick. His balls 
clenched as he felt Celia's soft mouth tighten and suck inward on his 
pulsing, jerking penile member. Pulling his mouth away for a second from the 
hair-fringed lips of her pussy, he breathed urgently, "Suck it, baby... 
that's ittttt... suuuuuuuccccckkkkk... oh yesssss... suck it!" 

Lips ovaling around the throbbing obscenity, Celia sucked it like a mammoth 
straw, drawing it hard between her teeth and lips, feeling the blood beating 
through its blue-veined length. Hearing Patrick's lusting harshly ragged 
words, she sucked the quaking length as far into her throat as possible, 
almost choking as it touched her tonsils and filled her mouth so completely. 
She could feel his face sunk deeply into her wet vulva again, and he made a 
slurping sound as he tongue-fucked her open furrow. 

To her amazement the sticky liquid oozing from the head of his massive penis 
tasted strangely exciting, muskily male, and smelled a funny rank but 
aromatic and not unpleasant scent. Celia tasted the masculine piquancy, the 
tang of his pungent genitals, and unreasoningly, wild tremors of delight 
went coursing through her. 

Not knowing how it was done, Celia let her instincts guide her. They were 
reliable guides, having come from millions of forebears who indulged in the 
pagan rites of fellation and cunnilingus long before her. The ancient blood 
memory told her what to do. 

She ravished her warm wet tongue upon the upstanding villainous instrument, 
brushing and grazing along its base and wide underside to the coroneal 
ridge, protruding from the thick foreskin, qushing and playing with it in 
lapping caressing strokes. Sliding her tongue back down its enormous 
thickened length, she licked the wrinkled sac that held Patrick's testicles 
in heavy weights. Celia could hear deep groans coming from his chest, 
muffled by her swaying, mashing slit that ground down on his working face 
and burned her whole pubic area with fiery lashes. Oh God! She didn't care! 
She didn't care that she was a slut engaged in the foulest of debaucheries. 
She wanted it never to stop. She, Celia Brown, wanted it! 

Patrick could feel his swollen cock being ravished and washed and laved and 
licked and sucked, could feel it flow along the inner roof of Celia's 
strange mouth. He moaned and moaned from deep in his chest into her splayed 
cunt. He thrust his tongue with renewed excitement between the warm fleshy 
folds-heard her gasp around his nudging pole-begin to suck the head 
feverishly. Oh Christ! There was nothing in the world as mind-blowing as 69! 
He sucked and fucked into her, and she swayed and bucked around his face and 
drew his cock agonizingly deep into her sucking throat. 

Her cunt flowered open even wider like petals peeling apart, and her 
secretions covered his mouth and chin while he sluiced her hole with his 
saliva. Patrick could feel her muscles hollow and then contract as he 
plunged ever deeper, burrowing into her dripping pussy with wicked slices of 
his tongue. Celia churned and writhed above him in an obscene desire-driven 
dance, her little rounded ass sashaying wildly. She was going to cum again 
with him! 

Patrick could feel the bursting dam of his balls barely holding as Celia 
chewed and nibbled and licked and sucked on his gargantuan cock that sawed 
insanely in and out of her inexpert but fervent mouth. Oh, Jesus! He could 
feel the prickling tingling rising fermentations in his gut, and he rammed 
his butt up, driving the piston of his rod ever deeper into her laboring 
throat. Celia's soft thighs were clenching him viciously, and he could feel 
the wet flesh slip around his tongue as if the hair-lined vaginal lips were 
going to completely consume his tongue. 

The thought of shooting his boiling cum into her hot pink mucous-wet mouth 
was almost driving him out of his friggin' mind! He began to suck and tease 
her clitoris unmercifully, finally biting the little tender love button as 
she lurched and writhed above him. Guttural unladylike moans spilled from 
her too-filled mouth as she worried and pulled and drew on his bursting, 
jerking frantic prick. Celia was mashing the gluttonous, devouring pussy 
against his face, and she pulled savagely on his penis with ever-increasing 
speed. 

Then suddenly Patrick could no longer hold his maddened, churning screaming 
volcano. He felt the rush of sperm begin to burst along its narrow tube just 
as Celia stiffened above him and screamed around his bursting cock, 
"AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGH!" She twisted and wrenched wantonly above him, her 
teeth biting into his releasing prick and then sucking furiously as the hot 
shooting jets of his semen soared into her hungry mouth. 

"I'm...I'M CUUUUUUUMMMM-MMMIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGG!" Patrick tore his mouth 
away from her juicing pulsing palpitating cunt long enough to scream out his 
agonizingly ecstatic climax. His great cock was swelling even larger as his 
convulsing ejaculation poured the streams of boiling, gushing, molten sperm 
deeply into her swallowing, sucking throat. 

Celia groaned as she sucked, and her Adam's apple flew up and down rapidly 
as she feverishly attempted to control the rushing, steaming squirting flow. 
It was an unending torrent that pumped from deep within his belly into her 
hungry, eager mouth. 

Her back was arching, and she bucked wildly, her body quaking 
uncontrollably, and Patrick could feel the flood of sticky lubrication 
spread warmly over his face and down his cheeks. Celia thrust deeply over 
his spewing prick and took it to the hilt into her laboring throat as her 
own gyrating body mashed and ground down and rotated over his sucking, 
ravaging, fucking tongue. 

The vengeance of his endless spasms of streaming liquid, thick hot sperm 
drenched her gullet. She frantically swallowed the creamy eruptions deep 
into her belly. Her lips clasped in a ring around his jumping penis, and she 
twirled her tongue around the throbbing head and sucked and sucked until at 
last there was no more and she felt Patrick's cock begin to slowly deflate 
slightly in her mouth. 

Wearily he reached down and pulled her limp body around, and his mouth found 
Celia's, hot and sticky with his cum as his was full of hers. They kissed 
and tasted their own residues of heaven, and at last fell exhausted in a 
sprawl of arms and legs, and the frogs let out one sleepy croak. 

Chapter Five 

"Sister?" Celia winced, and her heart pounded so loud she was sure it must 
be transmitted through the receiver she held to her ear. Why did her father 
always call her "Sister?" Her mouth was dry, and she hadn't even been to the 
bathroom or brushed her teeth yet. She gripped the phone, one arm locked at 
her waist to hold her robe closed. 

"Yes, Daddy." 

"Are you all right? We haven't heard from you this week." 

"Yes, I'm fine, Daddy. I've been working hard." That was true as far as it 
went. 

"Your mother and I are worried about you. I wish you'd give up this drama 
business. It'll never make you any money. You can bet your life on that!" 

"But, Daddy... we've been all through that. I guess I have to try." 

"We're just worried sick about you. Mother didn't sleep all night." Celia 
held her head and fought for control. Last night. Oh God. Last night. If her 
mother had really known what went on last night! 

"I'm... I'm sorry, Dad. Look, I have to get to work. And I have a 
performance tonight. I'll call you in a couple of days... okay?" 

"I hope you know what you're doing, Sister. You've got a good home right 
here, you know... long as I'm able to work. You think about that. You hear?" 

"All right, Daddy... yes, I will. I've got to run now. Give Mother a kiss. 
I'll call you soon. Goodbye now." She heard his admonitions and farewells 
fade as she slowly replaced the receiver. 

Dully she stumbled into the bathroom and locked the door. She reached for 
her toothbrush and saw her sleep-flushed face in the mirror, smudges of 
fatigue under eyes, a crease on one cheek where she'd buried her head in the 
pillow sometime during the night. Mirror, mirror, on the wall... oh God! 

There wasn't any question in Web's mind but that he'd been a bastard. But 
then there were several things he'd done in the past that he wasn't exactly 
proud of, and none of them had ever eaten him the way this had. 

She hadn't called, and he knew she wouldn't. Celia had just walked out of 
his life when she walked out of that restaurant yesterday. God. Was it only 
yesterday? 

He squinted even with dark glasses against the bright morning sun as he 
walked up the steps to Peabody for his appointment with Esther to go over 
the books. The bitter truth about the financial state of Peabody was going 
to be a blow to her, too. He looked across the little grassy park to the 
upper floor of the ornate house where Celia lived. 

He pressed the bell and ran his hand wearily across his forehead, still 
looking at the top story of the house. He wasn't used to sleepless nights, 
and he wondered how many of them he'd have from now on... how long it would 
be before he could like himself again... how long he would see that lovely, 
trusting, giving face inside his head? 

"This is quite a blow, Web... as I guess you know. I knew Peabody was... 
well, it's always been a struggle... but I just didn't realize it was this 
bad." Esther leaned back in the brown velvet chair with a sigh and sipped 
her tea. 

Web walked with coffee cup in hand from the sunny bay window with its 
profusion of potted palms over to the marble fireplace. His blue eyes were 
serious and worried behind his glasses. "I'm sorry, Esther, to have to be so 
brutal about it... but the facts are there. It's inevitable, and I guess, in 
a way, overdue. You'll lose Peabody. You have to sell. You haven't any 
choice." 

"There is one choice I haven't told you about," she said slowly. "I just had 
an offer yesterday. I don't quite know what to make of it. I'm quite 
confused about it." Esther took a deep breath and pulled her handkerchief 
from her sleeve. She told him then as best she could about Garrett's offer. 
A partnership. He wanted half and was willing to put up a sizable amount of 
capital, but she knew that it didn't amount to half of what the property was 
worth. 

The thing that bothered her was what Garrett wanted to do with the school to 
get it on its feet financially. It didn't seem to her that selling-package 
tickets to visiting conventioneers and their wives (a ticket included seeing 
a performance and an invitation to a cast party afterwards) was such an 
earth-shaking money-making idea. What did cast parties have to offer 
businessmen and their wives away from home? There was something Garrett 
wasn't telling her... or else she was just being dense. 

Esther didn't tell Web about... she still couldn't think about it without 
blushing. Justin Garrett had made passionate love to her. She still couldn't 
believe that he wanted her, pleaded with her, was so gallant. All these 
years after Brian died in China. Privately she told herself that she had 
taken the "veil" when Brian went. And she had, except for those infrequent 
but terrible times when she was so nervous that she abused herself. 

But Garrett's lovemaking had confused her so after the offer for the school. 
She was so afraid they were connected... that she was being a typical eager 
old maid. Mostly she was afraid of the incredible sexual feelings that 
Garrett had aroused... the feelings she'd kept so carefully in check. 

"I agree that his offer is most probably far less than you can get for the 
buildings alone. On the other hand, you have to decide if keeping the school 
is that important to you. Financially you'd probably be better off to sell." 

"But... the school has been my whole life, Web. I don't want to give it up 
unless I'm forced to." Esther felt as if everything were forcing her, the 
dwindling funds, Garrett, Web, her own body and most of all her own 
foolishness. 

Web's jaw tightened, and his hands gripped his briefcase as he sat at 
Esther's desk listening to Hilda's threats. That bitch! That incredible 
bitch! 

"You see, Miss Peabody, she's a terrible influence, I'm afraid. Celia looks 
so innocent, and she is good on stage. Everybody knows that. But my family 
just wouldn't continue to support the school if I leave... and I can't stay 
if that... hussy stays. I don't like to carry tales... but I just can't 
stand it any longer." Hilda put her teacup down on the low table and took a 
flat envelope out of her large purse. 

"But surely you're mistaken, Hilda. So far you've only hinted at some 
questionable behavior of Celia's. I couldn't expel a girl on the strength of 
rumor." 

Hilda's head came up like a shot, and she moved to stand in front of the 
desk, the envelope in her hands. "I have damning evidence." She looked 
straight at Web as she said it, her eyes narrow with venom. He could hear 
her saying the words he knew were about to come. Somehow she'd found out 
about him and Celia! 

But instead of speaking, she opened the envelope, took out several large 
glossy photos, and handed them to him. For a moment he stared in 
bewilderment. The photos were of a naked and very seductively posed woman. 
But the woman was not Celia, as he had momentarily expected... it was Hilda 
herself! 

The bitch! So that was her game! She had no real evidence with which to 
blackmail Celia, so she was trying to seduce him in order to get what she 
wanted. Well, she wouldn't get away with it. He had to get her out of here, 
and fast. 

He tried to calm his hammering pulse. "Since I'm Miss Peabody's accountant, 
as you know, I handle a lot of things for her. It seems to me this is a 
financial matter." He rose, stuffed the photos into his briefcase, and 
walked around the desk to Hilda. Web took her arm in an almost brutal grip. 
"Miss Peabody's terribly busy this morning, and I believe that you and I can 
discuss the preliminaries, and then we can present our findings to her 
later." 

Hilda pulled back and sputtered, but Web held her firm, looking straight 
into her hard eyes. Somehow he got her out the door, where they almost 
collided with Justin Garrett. He walked right in as though he owned the 
place already. Web loathed him on sight. 

When they were in the living room of the flat, Web's first inclination was 
to shake Hilda till her teeth rattled out of her head, but he knew that 
wouldn't get any more information out of her. He was still shaking at the 
outrage of her attempted blackmail with Celia as the pawn. 

Celia wanted more than anything to be able to continue at the school, and it 
was his own cynical use of her that had given Hilda the ammunition. Well, by 
God, over his dead body! 

Now, when he needed to be cool, he knew he was more out of control than he'd 
been for years. His belly was churning with fury at himself for putting her 
in such a spot, and murderous anger at Hilda. Besides-Celia's sweet trusting 
beautiful face kept chasing around behind his eyeballs, and it was tearing 
his guts out. 

"Now suppose you tell me just why you have this burning desire to get rid of 
Celia," Web said grimly, sitting on the arm of one of the chintz chairs. 

"Because I want to go to New York," Hilda answered coolly from the couch, 
lighting a cigarette, and blowing the smoke out through her nose. 

"What does that have to do with anything?" 

She raised her eyebrows and explained impatiently, "My rather provincial 
father will not send me to New York unless I make good in the theatre 
locally first. Celia has gotten every part I needed... including the one 
Justin Garrett just gave her last night... after a quick roll in the hay, 
I'm sure." 

Web fought to keep from hitting her. "Would you care to explain that 
remark?" he asked through tight lips. Hilda got up and walked over to him 
until she was standing right in front of him. 

"I saw her... downstairs with you... fucking you right on the couch in the 
hall!" she hissed, her eyes blazing. 

To keep himself from hitting her and knocking her all the way across the 
room, Web grabbed her bare arms above the elbows, and started to shake her, 
standing up abruptly. Hilda moved instantly into his chest and wrapped her 
arms around his waist and set her mouth on his. Web could feel her big 
breasts mashed into his chest and her hands straying down to his buttocks 
and pressing him into her. 

He pushed her away roughly. "You're a damned spoiled brat! You... you ought 
to be spanked until you're black and blue. You're a goddamned jealous 
spiteful bitch!" 

Hilda stood where he had pushed her, her breasts heaving and her eyes fixed 
on his in a wide stare. Her hands were fumbling with the buttons on her 
sleeveless dress. "I just want my share." She pulled her dress off her 
shoulders and let her ripened full breasts spill nakedly out, the pale brown 
nipples winking at him. "That's all... just my share, lover..." She let the 
dress fall to her feet slowly and kicked it aside. Her eyes never left his 
face as she skinned the bikini panties down and very deliberately dropped 
them on her crumpled dress. 

Web stood panting, confused as a bull in the ring who has been tormented 
beyond his understanding. He didn't know which way to charge. He only knew 
he had to wipe that sneering smile from Hilda's face... somehow... some way. 
Even her big perfect breasts sneered with their pale brown eyes, and her 
pubic patch undulated faintly with a tiny movement of her hips. Despite his 
fury and outrage and terrible guilt over Celia, he felt his prick push up 
inside his pants to attention. The sweat popped up on his forehead, and not 
just because the morning sun was getting higher. That bitch made him feel 
like a boy... an ineffectual boy! 

He grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly to him and crushed his mouth down 
on hers, shoving his tongue brutally between her teeth, his hands catching 
her round little ass and cramming her snatch against his hardened cock that 
had begun to rise the moment her dress had started to come off. Goddamned 
amoral bitch! 

Her hands were all over him... unbuttoning his shirt, prying his belt loose, 
unzipping his pants. He felt like a freak in a sideshow... as though she 
were unveiling him for a crowd of suckers and was going to reveal that he 
had two cocks or something equally unreal. He tore his mouth loose then and 
shoved her away so hard that she fell a few feet away and lay there, panting 
and looking at him with those malevolent, predatory cat eyes. 

Web tore his clothes the rest of the way off, glaring at her and daring her 
to make a move. At last he stood naked, his great pole strutting out in a 
giant erection from his hairy blond loins. 

"You want your share, bitch... well you're going to get your share!" 

Hilda lay on one elbow where she had fallen, watching him as he came toward 
her. His massive and almost instant erection fascinated her. The enormous 
vein-laced shaft swayed and bobbed as he came toward her, prick first. 
Something in his face had changed, and she could tell she no longer had the 
upper hand. A stab of fear thrilled through her. 

Web reached down and pulled her to her feet, pointed her toward the couch, 
and slapped her naked buttock as she went. His hand print glowed on her pale 
skin like a red glove with the fingers stretched wide in terror. 

"You'll get your share, all right! I can promise you that. It may not be 
exactly the way you planned... but you'll get it, bitch!" He threw her on 
the couch, and she looked up at him slyly through a fold of tan hair that 
fell over one eye. 

"Turn over!" Web stared down at her naked body with the big perfect firm 
breasts. It was as though all her real meat had been concentrated in those 
full fruits, for she was so thin otherwise that she was almost skinny. 

He grabbed her narrow hips and pulled her ass high with her head sunk in the 
sofa pillow and her knees bent. The puckered little brown asshole between 
the orbs of her ass was completely exposed, every tiny crinkle showing in 
the bright morning sun pouring into the big room. Web's anger was still hot 
and hard in his belly, and he looked his fill, savoring the thought of 
putting his hard prick into that tiny defenseless aperture. Grunting, he 
kneed up behind her on the sofa. He grabbed his aching rod with one hand and 
touched the thick blunt head to the soft little pursed-mouth asshole. 

"W-what... what are you doing?" Her head came up, and she looked around at 
him, her pale tan hair hanging limply as though she were a scrawny Brahma 
cow. 

"Giving you your share, bitch!" He shoved forward with no warning, holding 
her hips to keep her from slipping away. 

"No... no, you cant! Not in my... oh, no!" 

"I can... and I will," he grunted, pushing forward again, for her virginal 
anal orifice was so tight he hadn't even managed to get inside. He reached 
down between her spread thighs and ran his finger up her slit to get some 
pussy juice to lubricate her asshole. He dipped his finger between the 
hair-fringed lips of her moist cunt, watching her hips and buttocks jerk 
from the erotic intrusion. 

Web smeared the slippery lubricant over the crinkled tight little hole of 
her rectum. He did it several times before grasping and dipping the head of 
his pulsing prick between the dewy lips, and then nuzzled it tightly again 
up against her stretched anus. 

Then, without benefit of mercy, he thrust forward, and there was an 
agonizing pop and stretching, and she twisted and screamed, waggling her 
bottom to get free of the torturing instrument. "GGGGAAAAHHHHHH!" His strong 
hands held her hips viselike and strained his hips forward obscenely. Web 
felt the murderous grip of the muscular walls of rectal flesh slowly giving 
way before his ramming. God damn! It was the tightest possible hole 
imaginable! 

Hilda was suddenly terrified as an unbearable pain ripped her. He was 
ripping her apart back there! She'd be split wide open, she realized in 
sudden horror, her round buttocks beginning to thrash insanely. "Oh... Oh 
God...!" she choked, unable to restrain the tears of agony. The torment was 
unbelievable, and she'd never be able to stand it. 

"Here comes your share, bitch!" Web panted, throwing his thick throbbing 
shaft into the persistent, rubbery flesh until at last, with one final 
buttock-flattening lunge, he ground it all the way inside the hot 
constricting depths of her lewdly stretched rectum. His strong hairy pelvis 
smacked solidly into the softness between her upturned rounded buttocks, his 
balls swinging hard against the spread lips of her pussy. She was impaled to 
the hilt on his punishing solid flesh rod of prick. 

She was screaming piteously, "Oh God... please... no... oh, please... 
don't... you're killing me...!" The tears were pouring down her face, and 
sobs wracked her as the searing, excruciating pain tore into her defenseless 
body. Hilda was not used to pain and did not know how to cope with it or get 
through it. She'd die... right here... split apart and bleeding! Oh, why had 
she gotten herself involved with this maniac? Why and how? 

The vengeance Web was wreaking on her cringing body was doubly sweet, for 
his lust-maddened cock was getting a lascivious and unbelievable pleasure in 
the bargain. He watched his rigid ravaging prick disappear into the tight 
ovaled hole between her raised mounds, disappear entirely until his hairy 
loins were locked against her ass flesh. As he drew it out slightly, the 
pink ridges of anal meat pulled out too and then were forced inward again as 
he shoved it in with a mighty thrust. He grunted and his breath came faster 
and faster. 

"Oh... oh dear God!" The agonizing shock and tearing pain were too much! 
"Ohhh... it's tearing... ohhhhh... STOP! Please STOP!" Hilda wailed and 
moaned and screamed, waggling her bottom to try and pry the tormenting, 
terrible weapon from her flaming, pain-ridden asshole. 

Suddenly Web was rhythmically sawing in and out of her gripping hole, his 
panting increasing as he watched the salacious sight of his own angry 
lusting greedy cock fucking into her tiny recoiling rectum. The massive 
steel-hard rod raced in and out of her clinging anal passage from the tip of 
her now stretched asshole to the very depths of her belly. 

The pain was eating into her, and the thought of the brutal sodomizing was 
both terrible and strangely exciting. The forbidden entry was a powerful 
aphrodisiac if she could somehow bear the flaming, scarring hurt... but, oh 
God!... how? 

Web was losing all sense of reason, clutching wildly at her hips and digging 
his fingers brutally into the tender flesh of her thighs as the slaving, 
salacious feelings of his throbbing swift sword stabbed and lunged savagely 
into her upturned forbidden hole. He sent it digging into that cringing pink 
flesh like a sharp knife slicing, cutting, and the thunder in his balls that 
slapped her naked cunt was building to the scalding rise of a huge boiling 
vat. 

God damn her! She was going to use Celia... well, by God... he was using 
her... using her like the bitch... the jealous, vicious bitch she was! Web 
gloried in the using, the punishing, the brutal sodomizing of her asshole. 
He jabbed even harder, watching her moan and writhe and plead, her hands 
knotting into terrified fists, the tendons standing out in cords as she 
struggled to bear the pain, her pain-maddened head flinging from side to 
side, the tan hair tangling and swinging and matting with her tears and the 
sobs wracking her like small earthquakes. 

Hilda flailed and moaned and sobbed, and in her writhing her hips moved back 
to meet his thundering onslaught and she found it lessened the pain. 
Gasping, she tried again to push back as he lunged into her sore and tender 
flesh, and again it eased and brought a strange flicker of excitement, a new 
sensation. Soon she was pushing hard against the rigid ramming thickened 
shaft, and she waved her ass lasciviously back against his solid thrusts. 

That goddamned bitch! She was beginning to enjoy it! She was shoving her ass 
back onto his driving, pounding cock... enjoying the lustful sodomizing, 
reveling in the depraved possession of her asshole. Web drove it harder, 
ramming her unmercifully, the throbbing great mass of his solid flesh pole 
racing brutally into her stretched hole, his hands holding her hips still. 

By an enormous effort of will, he suddenly stopped with his huge cock sunk 
all the way into her narrow belly. It jerked inside her, and he saw the 
grimace of pain twist her face. "Now..." he grunted, "Now... tell me what 
else... you've done... to get rid of Celia... Tell me!" She was sobbing 
again, and her hands stretched out in claws of pleading. Web wrapped his 
arms under her belly and clenched her ass even harder and deliberately 
jerked his cock viciously inside her cringing depths. "Talk, bitch... now!" 

She told him then... everything... sobbing out the bits and pieces of her 
treachery... the insurance of her several plots to get Celia removed from 
Peabody permanently. The sweat was pouring from Web's face in his effort to 
listen and keep her talking and still restrain his raging deep-sunk prick 
long enough to get the story. 

"That's all... I swear..." she sobbed. "Please... please..." Web released 
her belly then and grabbed her hips and pulled his outraged shaft back, 
drawing it almost out and then, with a groan of relief, slamming it into her 
in a frantic fucking. Jesus! He had to finish it now. He couldn't hold on 
another second! 

Pulling her spherical cheeks apart suddenly, the sweat pouring from his head 
and face, he pumped furiously into her stretched hole, her punished flesh 
clinging to his thick cock as he withdrew and disappearing again as he 
rammed it forward. Hilda's warm sucking asshole was extracting the very 
marrow from him, and he fucked into her hot depths ferociously to get it 
over. His balls were ready to shoot. He was almost there! 

In his lust-driven craze, he was only conscious of getting there, ramming to 
the finish, and his tripping point was so... so close! He gasped and plunged 
in ravaging strokes that speeded up to a maniacal pace, groans spilling out 
his open mouth and a great shaking paroxysm of debasing lust building in his 
belly and loins. 

Suddenly he tensed and arched, slamming into her so hard he almost lost his 
balance. "G-A-A-G-G-G-H-H-H-H-D-D-D!" he screamed, his strong loins jerking 
convulsively against the flatness of her upraised buttocks, and a great 
flood of hot, swirling sperm poured deep into her rectum, filling her 
quaking belly almost to the bursting point. Web shoved and shoved as the 
spurts of creaming semen gushed spasmodically into the clenching depths... a 
seemingly unending stream jetting out in pulses in the black recess of her 
belly. 

He hung above her, panting and letting his heartbeat ease. His buttocks 
clenched and unclenched, straining the last few spewing spurts of his 
flaccid balls. At last he was dry and empty, limp and spent. Wearily he 
pulled his shrinking cock from her, and it came out with a cork's sound, 
popping out of her backside. Still taking his breaths in deep shudders, Web 
stumbled up and across the room. 

"No... you bastard... you can't leave me like this!" Still kneeling but with 
torso raised, she was spitting out the words at him in a snarl. She rolled 
over and spread her legs, lifting her hips to thrust her opened pussy at 
him, wet with his cum that had drained down to it. She clutched her breasts 
in an agony of un-fulfillment. "Come here and fuck it... come fuck me... you 
can't leave me like this." 

Web ignored her and, still almost drugged with the aftereffects of his 
mighty orgasm, started pulling on his clothes. He found his glasses and 
gathered his briefcase. She was moaning and spouting foul obscenities at him 
and arching her cunt up feverishly. Dressed now in pants and shirt, he 
gathered his jacket and shoved his feet in his shoes without socks, stuffing 
them in a pocket. He paused briefly at the door. 

Hilda was finger-fucking herself and still screaming at him. Her pelvis was 
elevated and her fingers madly sluicing her own pussy with a sucking sound, 
the pulsing hair-lined swollen flesh almost palpitating visibly. Web turned, 
went out the door, and stumbled down the carpeted stairs, with Hilda still 
screaming out her filth at him. 

Chapter Six 

Celia folded the stack of sweaters mechanically, the coolness of the 
glass-topped counter contrasting with the soft warm feel of the wool. Body 
of the sweater face down, the sleeves crossed over the back, and the whole 
thing then doubled in half... one on the other in a neat stack, their edges 
even. Her life had once been like that, neat, planned, in sequence, no 
overhanging edges. But now it was a tangled, raveled, untidy turmoil, and 
there was no way to put it back as it was. 

Sometime during the day, as she went through the motions of waiting on 
customers, clearing the fitting rooms, writing sales slips, polishing the 
glass cases, she had come to the inevitable conclusion that she would go 
home to Waxahachie. There was nothing else to do. 

The sound of her father's voice had rung in her head since this morning; the 
ache over Web only increased; her shame over Patrick last night... any or 
all of these could have sent her home. But it was Hilda's call at lunchtime 
that had made the decision final. Peabody must not collapse as a school 
because Celia had depleted the available funds by taking a scholarship. 
Hilda hadn't wanted to tell her, of course, but had to when Esther, dear 
sweet soul, just wouldn't. 

Sighing, Celia slipped the folded stack of sweaters neatly into the case. 
She supposed there was some kind of job in some kind of awful little dry 
goods store in Waxahachie that she could get. She'd have to. The rest of her 
life would be spent there. 

The little back terrace was brilliant in the sunshine, and Esther could feel 
the heat of the sun through her thin batiste blouse on her shoulderblades. 
Everything sparkled, the white stones under her feet, the leaves of the 
trees, the grass beyond, the china and glassware on the old pink 
linen-covered iron table. Justin leaned across the table and took her hand 
and kissed the palm. 

"Just trust me, my dear Esther. Hilda and I have made all the arrangements. 
The cast party will be a good sort of tryout for what we'll be offering 
later to the bored executives who come to Dallas on conventions." 

"But I've never really gone to the cast parties much before. That's for the 
young people." 

"Tonight, my dear, you'll get closer to your students than you ever have 
before... I promise you." 

"All right," Esther sighed, pushing her doubts away. Her hand was tingling 
from Justin's warm palm. He'd enjoyed the lunch she'd made. The sun was 
warm. Her whole body still felt contented and expansive from the lovemaking 
behind the shuttered blinds of her cool high-ceilinged bedroom. It was 
foolish to keep nagging at him with her silly doubts. 

The water in the big old-fashioned tub, ensconced on high tiptoe-clawed 
feet, was getting cold. Patrick leaned forward, turned on the hot water tap, 
and lay back, nursing his beer. The door banged open, and Bullock came 
barging in, whistling. He stopped short. 

"Hey, old buddy. Didn't know you were here." He grinned at Patrick's 
immersed body, noting the hot water tap still running. "What you trying to 
do... boil your balls?" 

"Just bring their temperature down to roughly that of boiling water, chum." 

"Good session last night, huh?" 

"Too good to let you know who with." 

"Ah... you friggin' politicians are all the same... selfish." Brand turned 
to the toilet and took a leak. 

Patrick leaned forward slightly, shut the tap off with his toe, and slid 
back, taking a gulp of beer. He wished the hell Bullock hadn't come in. He 
had some hard thinking to do, and fast. 

"Guess what I did today?" Bullock paused for effect, zipping up his fly. "I 
got a job. I am now employed at the downtown office of the Unified Insurance 
Company. Start Monday." 

Patrick twisted his head to peer up at him. "Sounds like you got it bad for 
Rosemary and you're preparing to become a solid citizen." Lifting his beer 
in a mock toast, Patrick said casually, "Speaking of solid citizens, I've 
been asked to run for city council." 

"Jesus! That's great! Just what you've been waiting for! Goddamn! 
Congratulations, you bastard!" Patrick gave him a wet hand to shake. 

"There's only one problem. Money. It has to be done right... and it takes 
money. I know. I've been running other people's campaigns. Know any likely 
banks or rich widows?" 

"Shit, man, you got one right upstairs, and she's not even a widow." 

"Who?" 

"Hilda. Didn't you know her old man was in oil? She's got money coming out 
the ass." 

"That doesn't mean she'd give it to me." 

"If you can give it to her... if you know what I mean... she'll shell out, I 
think," Bullock said, remembering his quickie with her in the kitchen. 
"She's up there now, getting things ready for the cast party after the show 
tonight. Why don't you go try and give her a hand?" 

"Good thinking, Brand. I may just appoint you to the public works 
commission," Patrick laughed, tossing his beer can at the wastebasket and 
missing. He grabbed the soap and began scrubbing vigorously. 

Celia leaned forward to the makeup mirror in the dressing room, trying to 
steady her hand to do her eyes. Her face was pale and wan and exhausted, and 
her stomach was clenching. "The show must go on" was not a tradition she 
wanted to carry out now, but she must. 

"Here you are, honey," Rosemary called as she came into the dressing room 
carrying a white paper bag. She pulled out a carton of vanilla milkshake and 
set it on the dressing table along with the cold creams, jars and pots of 
rouge and base and eye pencils. 

"I don't know whether I can get it down or not. It'll probably come right 
back up." 

"Try anyway. It'll give your poor tummy something to chew on besides 
itself." She began stripping off her slacks and shirt and putting on her 
costume. She looked at Celia as she changed. Poor little thing looked done 
in. 

"You'll forget all about being tired when you get out there, honey. You 
always do. The audience is filling up fast. Looks like a good crowd." 

Celia nodded dumbly, sucking on the straw, and felt the slow thick coldness 
hit her grateful stomach. She had to get through tonight somehow... some 
way. The thought of facing Patrick on that stage suddenly occurred to her... 
followed by the thought that Web would not be there. Oh God! The mess she'd 
made of everything! 

"Looks like Hilda really knocked herself out on getting things ready for the 
cast party... for a change, I might add." Rosemary pulled a stool up to the 
mirror beside Celia. 

"Yes... I guess she did." 

"Come on, honey. Get with it. Those screaming bit players will be here soon, 
and you know how crowded things get in here. This is their big night, you 
know. Not the play... the cast party. Most of them only do this for the 
parties." Rosemary slapped on base and stroked it over her face until her 
skin was covered like a mask. 

"Maybe we all do...." Celia said strangely, staring at her own stiff 
partially made-up face. Rosemary caught her eye in the mirror and looked at 
her queerly. Celia picked up the eyeliner and began to put on the rest of 
her mask. As it went on, she began to feel a little better. Celia was 
receding and Helena advancing... a gallant, virtuous heroine... a virtuous 
lady. 

Chapter Seven 

The party was already under way when Celia climbed the stairs. The laughing, 
shouting, and squealing had begun. The music was winding up-around and 
through the voices-the high wandering poignant Elizabethan recorder and lute 
music they had used as background music for the play. 

Celia felt herself pulled into the middle of the room as though she'd been 
caught at the edge of a whirlpool and sucked into its center. Bullock put 
his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. "Darling, you were 
magnificent!" She was passed from one set of arms to another, kissed and 
praised and squeezed and lionized. The euphoria of opening night had worked 
its magic, and all the hard work had reaped its reward. Everyone was a 
little high on sheer excitement. 

Someone handed her a cup of punch. It was icy and tasted like limeade. She 
drank thirstily. Celia felt her tiredness begin to be forgotten, or at least 
to be not important anymore. It was a wonderful feeling to worry and work 
and slave and somehow pull a play together with a group of people who cared 
about doing it as much as you did. When it had been done and was an 
accomplished fact, you simply had to celebrate. You had to let go and admire 
what you'd done... together. 

Hilda came swishing through from the kitchen holding a platter of cheese and 
cold cuts to add to the already overflowing table. Pale gold lame flowing 
pants slithered around her ankles with a matching full-sleeved blouse and a 
brown velvet bolero. She looked quite New York and almost pretty, Celia 
thought. 

"You did all this by yourself, Hilda? I really feel guilty about not helping 
you." 

"Quite all right. You did your bit out front. You were divine, you know." 

"Thank you, Hilda. And thank you... for... calling me today." 

"I know it wasn't my business to," she lowered her voice, "but I just 
thought you'd want to know." 

"You know I would. I... I wouldn't do anything... to willingly... well, drag 
the school down. It's been too good to me. I'll never be able to repay what 
I've had... from everybody." 

"Have you told anybody you're leaving?" Hilda asked, lighting a cigarette. 

"No... I just thought I'd rather quietly slip away. I'll finish the play and 
get packed this week, and then I'm going," Celia said sadly. 

"Then this will be your goodbye party, too. It doesn't matter that no one 
knows but you and me. Maybe it's better that way. So... let's live it up. 
Here, let me fill your cup." Hilda slid through the crowd with Celia's cup. 
It was goodbye. The real goodbye. Celia felt her throat tighten, looking at 
all the gay crazy people she'd worked with these last three months. It 
wasn't really they who had spoiled it... no matter what her father might 
think. It was her own ignorant eagerness... her own traitorous body. But 
home in Waxahachie... there wasn't much chance that it could happen again. 
It would be dull, but she'd be safe, at least. 

The music had taken over, and bodies were bowing and dipping and swaying to 
the courtly melodies that had been popular in Henry the VIII's time. No one 
was very good at the unfamiliar dances, and they were a little wobbly by 
now... but that only made it all the more uproarious. 

Esther was having a terrible time in the kitchen with Justin. She felt his 
hand close over her breast as he nuzzled her neck. Whatever was the matter 
with him... or for that matter with her? It was all she could do to push him 
away, for she felt gay and giddy and would just as soon his hand stayed 
there, but it would never do in front of the young people. 

"Stop that, Justin." 

"What's the matter, Miss Pea... this old man bothering you?" Bullock 
laughed, grabbing her around the waist and kissing her passionately. Esther 
pushed at his hard young shoulders, but she couldn't seem to get a grip. Her 
hands kept pushing him off. He wouldn't let go. Finally she gave up and just 
let him kiss her. She found herself kissing him back. He was such a sweet 
boy. So like Brian. 

When Bullock came up for air, she felt his mouth slide to her ear. "You look 
prettier than you ever have tonight." Esther smiled sleepily, her cheek 
pressed to Bullock's. Justin had been right to make her leave her hair down 
and put on a little more makeup. She felt prettier than she ever had. 
Bullock was fondling her hair that fell in golden waves almost to her waist, 
caught at the back of her neck with a black velvet bow. 

This would never do. She was the teacher... the head of the school. Gently 
she pushed Bullock away. He almost fell, but steadied himself on the kitchen 
counter. "Are you all right?" 

"Better than ever," he grinned at her with his sad eyes. "Just this punch. 
Wonder what old Hilda put in it? Has a kick like a mule." 

"Why don't you ask her? She's right over there," Esther giggled, for she 
could see Hilda deep in conversation with Justin. Tonight Esther loved 
everybody. Even Hilda, who'd tried to make trouble for darling Celia. 

Patrick twirled Celia around his hand to the music. She dipped gracefully, 
and he brought her up close to his face. Celia felt his arm close around her 
waist, which wasn't part of the dance at all. That came a lot later in 
history. Centuries later in Vienna. 

"You're not doing the dance right, Patrick." 

"To hell with the dance," he said thickly. He pulled her closer. "I just 
wanted you to know that I'll never forget last night. Not in a position to 
do anything about it... but I'll never forget it." 

"Have to forget it." She pulled the long flowered skirt free of her heel and 
leaned against him. 

"I just tole you I wouldn't. May not have the money, Tender, but you got 
everything else. And I won't forget last night even when I'm governor of 
this fucking state." 

"Hear, hear! Everybody! Time for charades!" Hilda announced from the center 
of the big living room. The bodies moved back a little and began to applaud. 

"Hey, cut the music." 

"Thought we'd been playing charades all the time," Rosemary giggled. 

The room was quickly cleared, chairs pushed back, tables jammed in corners 
and lights turned off except for the barrage of candles Hilda had lit around 
the room. The couches and chairs were overflowing. The rest of them sat on 
the floor, with cushions and laps propping up heads and elbows in 
comfortable sprawls. Celia found herself with Patrick behind her on the 
floor. He was smoothing her tired back with his hands and massaging her neck 
and down her spine. 

The hangers-on had long since left, and the core of the school were left. 
Garrett watched the proceedings with amusement and satisfaction. That bitch 
Hilda had done a good job. She was no actress, but a damn good procuress, 
and things were going to work out fine. They were all pretty drunk now. That 
limeade stuff she'd stirred up had done the trick. It tasted so mild and hit 
so hard, since it was mostly good vodka. 

Charades... strip charades! That was a good one! Playing charades had become 
one big charade. There was hardly a strip of clothing left on anyone, and 
hands were already hardening tits and cocks everywhere he looked. Amazing 
what people would fall for if you gave them the chance. 

He watched Hilda get lazily up from where she'd been lying in Patrick's arms 
and step over people and cross the room. She put the needle back on the 
record player. Her big apple-pear breasts were shadowed in the candlelight, 
perfect and ripe. She began to writhe and sway to the music, her gleaming 
hips and legs in the lame pants grinding lewdly, making her look even more 
naked than if she'd worn nothing at all. 

Patrick rose and took the lead. They danced a fertility rite as old as man, 
circling and dipping and swaying and shaking their loins in mock fucking. 
Finally his hands clasped her hips, and he began slowly sliding her pants 
down her writhing hips to the beat of the music. At last he succeeded in 
stripping her completely and skinned his jockey shorts off. Their two naked 
bodies began again the obscene dancing, and it was the rutting animal that 
showed in the flickering candlelight. Patrick's great jutting cock stood out 
in lusting attentiveness from his hairy red loins, and Hilda's thighs were 
gleaming on the inside where her lubricants had oozed and been spread by the 
dancing. 

Celia had known long ago that she should have quietly slipped away, gone to 
her room, and locked the door. She'd felt funnier and funnier all evening. 
The room kept going round and round, and she was almost sick a couple of 
times. But this was her farewell party, even though they didn't know it. The 
last time she'd be here to laugh and dance and be a part of Pea-body. The 
living tomb of Waxahachie awaited for the rest of her life. 

It had seemed funny at first. Every time someone had not been able to guess 
the title of a book or a play that was being pantomimed they lost a piece of 
clothing. It had been hilarious until she suddenly realized that everyone 
was almost naked. They seemed to have stopped playing now, and Patrick and 
Hilda were dancing without any clothes at all. But then they were rather 
beautiful in the candlelight. It was like an ancient rite or something. She 
closed her eyes, and the room spun again. 

When Celia opened her eyes, Bullock was lying with his head in her lap, and 
her lap was only covered with her bikini panties. She reached for her 
clothes just as he reached for her, and she felt his mouth close on her 
breast and suck hard. "No-o-o-o-o!" she hissed as quietly as she could, 
feeling the by-now familiar tingling radiate from her breast and pull some 
inner strings inside her pussy at the same time. 

Did men never think of anything else... wherever they were, whoever they 
were with? Did women only react to whatever man happened to be handy? She 
tried to push him away, but she was so tired, so terribly tired. Celia 
remembered that Bullock was Rosemary's... or should be. Where was Rosemary? 
she wondered dimly. She tried again, and succeeded in breaking his mouth 
loose from her breast that was on fire now from his hot sucking mouth. 

"Bullock, please don't... where's Rosemary?" 

"Gone to the bathroom. But s'okay. Look... it's a group grope." 

He turned Celia around so she could see that there was a naked girl in the 
corner with her legs spread wide seated on a guy's lap, and she was bobbing 
up and down on his rigid prick. Her mouth was turned to the side, however, 
and another guy was fucking in and out of her mouth as he stood with lewdly 
crouched legs. 

Patrick was dancing around with Hilda clinging to him, her arms around his 
shoulders and head and her legs wrapped around his waist, and it was obvious 
that his cock was sunk up in her spread cunt. Patrick's strong arms 
sup-ported Hilda's small round bottom. Their mouths were locked, and he 
swayed and bounced faintly to the music. 

Bullock laughed. "It's what we used to dream about in Vietnam. God, if those 
poor devils could see this!" He slapped his naked hairy thigh, laughing 
insanely. "Hot damn! Look at Miss Pea." Celia turned to follow his eyes. 

Horrified, she saw her beloved teacher, naked and panting, lowering herself 
on Garrett's naked erection. Esther's hair had come completely loose and 
swung in long gold waves around her shoulders and down her back. Without her 
clothes, she looked at least ten years younger, for her naked full breasts 
were firm and her hips taut and smooth. 

Wherever Celia looked there were naked bodies now, pressing, kissing, 
sucking, fucking. Under the sinuous music was the sound of gruntings and 
groanings and little squeals and moans. By twos, by threes, by fours. And 
she had thought she was a whore! If this was the norm, then she was an 
innocent! They were all fucking as casually as if they were alone! 

Bullock grabbed her again and sank his mouth on hers in a hard kiss, his 
tongue immediately pushing past her teeth to fuck deeply into her throat. 
Celia knew she had to get out of here... and she tried to struggle, but he 
held her fast. She'd have to wait her chance. His hard arms were too much 
for her in this exhausted state. She went limp to try to preserve her 
strength, and immediately his hands were thumbing her nipples erect and hard 
while he fucked her mouth feverishly. 

Celia knew she was depraved now, for Bullock's mouth and hands felt just as 
wonderful on her body as Web's and Patrick's had. But then there seemed to 
be a lot of other depraved people, too... at least in this room. They were 
draped all over the couches and chairs and sprawled all over the Aubusson 
carpet. This was her last chance to feel any man's hard mouth or caressing 
hands. She began to kiss Bullock back. 

Rosemary held onto the doorframe as she made her way back into the living 
room. She paused and tried to locate Bullock in the dim light. Her loins 
tightened at what she saw. Even Miss Pea was riding Garrett on the couch 
like a madwoman, sliding up and down his pole in a frantic hip-shaking 
dance! Finally she found Bullock with his head propped on a pile of pillows 
and Celia on all fours, her breasts dangling over his mouth, as he sucked 
first one and then the other. Lying there, his lower body was unattended. 
Rosemary made her way to him and took his rigid upthrusting shaft in her 
warm hands, and he immediately thrust his hips up to fuck into the warm 
curled palms. 

Celia turned her head to see who had joined them on the floor. It was 
Rosemary! She must have shown the dismay and shame in her face, for Rosemary 
said, "It's all right, honey. We're all together tonight. Bullock's a good 
man." She giggled obscenely, leaning down to lick the turgid head of his 
cock she held in her hands. "He'll probably bring you off just sucking on 
your tits." 

Celia could do nothing but nod, for Bullock sank his teeth in her hard 
quivering nipple. Fire shot like a jolt through her body, flaming out to 
sear through her middle. A strained, "Oh-h-h," came out of her mouth as her 
head snapped back and the muscles in her neck stood out. She knew the whole 
world must have gone mad. Here she was with her breast in Bullock's 
voracious mouth and Rosemary was working on his cock. Her roommate, 
Rosemary! But the sucking mouth blotted out any moralistic thoughts, for her 
honeyed essence was dripping into his pulling, drawing mouth in great thick 
droplets. Celia slipped her hands under Bullock's balding head to pull his 
face even deeper into her swollen breast. 

Garrett drove his hips up hard, shoving his almost bursting pulsating cock 
deeper and deeper up into the slick throbbing heat of Esther's greedy, 
long-starved pussy. She was cumming again! She'd had three orgasms already! 
God, that woman had been saving it for years, but when he'd finally turned 
her on, there was no stopping her! His hands clutched her grinding hips as 
he began to reach for his own climax. Jesus! It was so close now, but he 
wanted to bring her off one more time... and this time as he shot his own 
burden of hot thick cum deep into her belly. 

"Cum on... cum on, sweetheart... cummmmm!" he urged as his hips began to 
lift them off the couch in faster and faster poundings. Her lewdly contorted 
face was straining, and wails were spilling from her lips. "Oh... yes... 
oooooo... so close... yessss..." she cried softly, her eyes rolling and her 
hair swinging down around her breasts in frantic waving strands. 

Suddenly she stiffened above him and dug her fingernails deeply into his 
heavily muscled fore-arms, and she pushed down over his huge blasting rod 
with all her might, her head wagging from side to side in a pantomime of No 
though her mouth opened and she screamed, "YEEEEEEESSSSSSS!" 

Garrett let out an answering bellow as he felt the dike give and his own hot 
streams begin to shoot up the constricted tube of his throbbing cock and the 
long-awaited flooding began. "G-o-o-o-o-o-o-od-ddddd!" He pumped furiously, 
bruising her hips with his great hands as he pounded her sopping pulsing 
pussy harder and harder to contain his tidal wave that was roaring in a 
mighty rush out of his body and into the high secret lake that was her 
belly. 

Esther was a limp and useless thing, almost unconscious now from her 
multiple orgasms that had taken her on a magic carpet ride of pure sensual 
pleasure. She hung twitching with reflexive spasms above Garrett's great 
hairy body like a doll with a broken mechanism inside that now had to be 
moved manually. Sleep. She only wanted to sleep. 

Finally Garrett pulled her limp body off his deflating prick and let her 
roll onto the sofa, sliding out so she could lie on her back. She was so 
tired she was already asleep. He'd have no trouble convincing her now about 
the convention business. The rakeoff from the Chamber of Commerce alone 
would be a pretty penny since the number of conventions would increase so 
rapidly. He'd seen it work in Hollywood, and this was an even more ingenious 
variation of the theme. Garrett and Peabody... the Masters and Johnson of 
Dallas... only it would be a cleaner operation. 

Patrick's legs had finally given out and he had lain Hilda down on the 
floor, keeping his cock sunk into her wet cunt that was about ready to 
explode. As he kissed and bit her ear-lobes, his hand found a pillow to 
shove under her narrow hips for a little elevation. She was moaning 
incoherently, but he knew how to translate "Please... do... don't... 
goooood... yessss... oh, lover...." She wasn't much to look at except for 
those fantastic tits. Jesus! What tits! But she was tall and had a good 
slender shape for clothes. The right makeup and hairdo at Arden's, and the 
public would call her elegant and restrained. That was good enough for a 
politician's wife. She had the money, and that was the one prerequisite. The 
rest they could change and mold. 

Patrick dug his rigid, blood-gorged probe expertly into her tight, hot, 
swollen and sopping cunt. That sucking slit of hers was drawing fiendishly 
already at his aching balls, trying to trigger him. She was pretty expert 
herself. Her cunt-sheath was tugging his tingling, turgid prick like a 
damned milking machine, the fingered walls of muscle squeezing and 
squeezing. He could feel Hilda's damp vaginal hole absorbing and accepting 
eagerly all of his long, thick shaft into the depths of her channel. It made 
a slight sucking sound. Those cuntal muscles were working overtime on the 
rigid, meaty length of his wildly throbbing cock. Jesus! He couldn't hold 
out long at this rate... not after that crazy fuck-dancing they'd done. 

Clutching her rounded ass cheeks in his hands, Patrick wormed his finger to 
the puckered asshole. Her juices had already wet the opening as they'd 
trickled down from her dripping pussy. He began pushing at the tiny crinkled 
orifice with the tip of his finger. It resisted fiercely, the muscles tight 
and hard. He was going to make this one cum like she'd never cum before. 
After all, he had to be better than the rest. He had to get at that money. 
Suddenly he stabbed his finger into the tight little hole, and she arched 
and screamed, which only rammed her palpitating pussy deeper onto his 
lunging spearing rod. Hilda yelled, "Yes! Fuck me in the asshole too. Fuck 
it good while you fuck my pussy!... please... fuck..." she panted and 
begged. Patrick needed no urging, but her frantic salacious words incited 
his fevered efforts even further to a straining mind-bending try. He rammed 
his finger viciously into her rectum, and the muscle ring suddenly gave and 
he was fucking her twice! Twice at once, filling both her holes with 
himself. He could feel the thin membranes between his slicing cock and 
pillaging finger... and it felt as though they might meet at the peak of a 
screaming climax. Establishing a rhythm, he slammed into her muscular holes 
that sucked him in a wild frenzied action. Her hips ground up to absorb his 
cock and then down to capture his fucking finger up her asshole. Oh, Jesus! 
It wasn't going to be any sacrifice to marry this much money. 

Celia's breasts felt as though they were being chewed up in the crazed 
machinery of Bullock's tongue and teeth and sucking mouth. The nipples were 
fiery little coals that burned into her depths, causing her pussy to flood 
heavy sheets of fluid that trickled down her naked thighs. The fire was 
there too, burning and wanting and sucking in on itself in frantic muscular 
writhings. Oh God! She was going mad. Her belly was aching with physical 
pleading for release. 

Suddenly she felt her thighs being spread, and she moaned hopefully. She 
looked down under her still-crouched body and saw two great hairy paws 
spreading her open. She watched in tranced fascination as a huge black and 
silver head slid face up between her opened thighs. An enormous bloated red 
tongue licked out in anticipation of tasting her swollen, dripping cunt that 
was right over that salacious face. It was Garrett! The brute who'd made her 
cry... who'd humiliated her before Patrick... trying to break her at the 
tryouts. Her opened pussy tried to cringe away, but the huge hands caught 
her hips and pulled her wet-mouthed vulva right into the leering face. Ball 
lightning struck inside Celia's belly and loins as she felt that lascivious 
tongue touch her clitoris. The stupefying electric shock sent her breast 
even farther into Bullock's lusting lascivious mouth. 

Garrett dug his sweating palms into Celia's delectable little ass cheeks and 
pressed her meaty, firm young cuntal lips to his starving mouth so his 
upturned animal face could feed at the trough of her pussy. Celia struggled 
to close her thighs, but it was hopeless. She only implanted his ravaging 
mouth deeper into her vagina and could feel the thick tongue plow into her 
sensitive flesh. He was scouring her ragged pink edges of genital flesh with 
that hard pseudo-penile member by running it in frantic circles and flicking 
at the clitoris until it was a throbbing, tortured bud of quivering 
screaming need. 

She groaned pitifully as he pushed his face in deeper and the full length of 
his snaking buried itself in the flushed and flowing walls of her young 
pussy. Somehow Bu11ock's draining mouth on her breasts had prepared the way 
for this sadistic maniac who was barbarously raping her vagina with his 
thick twisting scalding tongue. By sheer coincidence, Bullock's now hardened 
sucking mouth was establishing a rhythm with the foraging tongue in her 
pleading privates. Her body was vibrating like a plucked string between the 
sucking mouth at her breasts and the fucking tongue in her pussy. The 
vibrations set up a ringing through her veins that was driving her mad! 

Bullock could feel Rosemary's soft, slippery, meaty, juicy cunt-flesh 
against the head of his raging cock. He opened one eye to peer around 
Celia's fully swollen breast in his mouth and saw that Rosemary was squatted 
over his loins. She was holding his blunt-nosed prick, sliding it back and 
forth, in the outer lips of her slick and slippery cunt. Oh Christ! If this 
was his reward for Vietnam, it had been worth it! God damn! If this was 
passed out for serving there, they wouldn't be able to keep the whole 
friggin' male population from enlisting! This was a soldier's fantasy... an 
impossible dream come true. Even when you were dreaming it... up to your ass 
in mud and blood... you knew it could never happen. But it was happening to 
him! 

"Oh-h-h-h-hhhhhhh... deeeeeeaaaaarrrrrrr... GOOOODDDDDDD!" Bullock heard 
Celia scream, her head thrown back. The cords in her beautiful young throat 
were standing out in ridged straining. Her hands caught Bullock's shoulders. 
She pushed inward on them as hard as she could to try and somehow contain 
the ecstasy that was building in her young body. This caused her beautiful 
white mounds of breasts to jerk upward, pulled by the pectoral muscles that 
lay under and above them. The firm nipple budded even harder against the 
roof of his mouth as her hands dug into his shoulders and the other firm 
round globe in his kneading hand jerked in throbs. Oh God! Shit! What could 
ever top having your mouth stuffed full of tit and your cock impaled in a 
sliding, sheathing, milking, sopping, meaty cunt! 

Patrick looked up briefly to see Esther Pea-body just standing, arms limp, 
eyes glazed and head slack right over Hilda's contorted, wailing face. He 
hardly recognized her... for she was naked... the ugly clothes gone and not 
a stitch to cover her voluptuous milk-white body. Her hair hung in rippling 
golden rivulets to her waist, and her snowy fully ripened woman's breasts 
poked pink soft nipples through the strands. Esther was looking down at him 
as he fucked into Hilda's lurching body. It was as though she were in a 
hypnotic trance, uncomprehending, in a daze of unaccustomed alcohol and more 
unaccustomed sex. Patrick's eyes were drawn like a magnet to her curly 
golden fleece so close above his head. "Kneel down!" he commanded, and she 
dropped to her knees instantly as though he were the mad Rasputin and she 
would gladly kneel before his saintly altar. 

He pulled his finger reluctantly from Hilda's clenching asshole, without 
missing a stroke, into her sucking, clutching cunt. "Spread your knees 
wider." He addressed the golden-haired triangle, and obediently Esther 
widened her kneeling stance. Patrick could see the flushed pussy lips, moist 
and gleaming, come into view. Leaning on his elbows, he reached up and 
caught Esther's smooth snow-white hips and pulled the gilded fleece he 
sought into his questing mouth. His tongue shot out and stabbed into the 
downy mat and deeper into the syrupy slick meat of her defenseless pussy 
that she offered to him so willingly. 

"E-EOE-EEEEEEEEeeeeeee!" came out of Esther's slack mouth as she felt a 
burning jolt stab through her body. It was a delicious nightmare, and she 
would wake to find her genitals all wet and swollen. She would have to 
relieve herself furtively beneath the covers and then scrub her terrible 
tempestuous and abused flesh until it was raw. Soon now, she would wake and 
find the rippling rapturous sensations in her throbbing secret hole were 
only a figment of her tortured dream life. But right now she was going to 
enjoy it and pray that she didn't wake too soon as she always had. 

Esther's hands came out involuntarily, seeking the cause of her beautiful 
dream, and felt what in her dream was the curly head of a man. Her fingers 
sought farther. She could feel his jaws and cheeks and eyes, but the mouth 
was clamped onto... onto her vulva. It must be his tongue that was charging 
her sensitive flesh down there! Oh God! Don't let it stop, she prayed... and 
she pressed that blessed head deeper into her vitals and felt the rigid 
tongue licking and laving the very center of her being. 

Patrick smelled Esther's flowing love juice, and the heady scent raced from 
his brain to his long rapier prick that sliced faster and faster into 
Hilda's gyrating cunt. His tongue tasted the musky woman taste of the 
pulsing, sucking walls of Esther's golden-haired pussy. Oh Christ! The 
closest he'd ever been to an orgy before was when he and Jack Amon had dated 
twins and fucked their choices in twin beds at a motel. But this... this was 
a fucking orgy... it was blowing his mind that was already fogged with 
alcohol. 

"Ahhhhhhh... GGAAAAHHHHHH... UUUUHHHH!" Hilda was snorting like a maddened 
young bitch under him, and her head was tossing back and forth on the carpet 
between Esther's spread thighs. Patrick could feel Hilda's thighs wrap 
around his waist, and her frantic thin hands dig lust-spread fingers into 
his hard lean buttocks as she strained for her climax. He could hear the 
slurping, sucking of his burgeoning cock expanding even more now and 
slushing into the fevered jungle-dark moist tunnel between Hilda's clutching 
clasping thighs. She was climbing him like a crazed cat, and he rammed it to 
her greedy pussy in time to his sucking, stabbing, swirling tongue in 
Esther's blazing-warm awakened cunt. 

Rosemary rode high and mighty on Bullock's huge slamming prod, his lusty 
hips thrusting her up and down like a merry-go-round, only this was an even 
better feeling than the hard saddle of the painted wooden horses of her 
childhood shoving against her tingling pussy lips. For protruding from this 
saddle was that frenzied grandiose cock that sliced into her sopping passage 
like a hot knife through butter. She could see Celia writhing above 
Bullock's sucking mouth and kneading hands and Garrett's buried face that 
was tuning her snatch to the high-pitched scream of a giant orgasm. 

Everybody was getting theirs except poor burly Garrett, beheaded by Celia's 
clutching thighs, his naked prick thrusting up like a huge vein-laced pillar 
from his hairy black loins. Rosemary reached out and grasped his hairy leg 
and tugged it toward her. He seemed to know without looking what she wanted, 
and he began to inch his body over toward her, like a big walrus flipping 
along. 

Rosemary marveled that she had been so terrified of someone seeing her with 
Bullock the other night and here they all were... fucking together... 
however and with whoever they wanted. She'd been behind the times... the 
sexual revolution was here... and now! 

Garrett could feel the strange sensation of sliding around so Rosemary could 
reach his aching cock while his head was still imprisoned between Celia's 
frantic thighs. His mouth simply turned under her soaking fevered cunt, and 
his lips became parallel with her vaginal lips. He found he could then slide 
his tongue from side to side out of his mouth as though he were eating the 
watermelon the Dallas peasants were so fond of. God! This one was juicier 
than a watermelon! Her sticky-slime pussy dew was dripping down his chin and 
into his sucking mouth as he ate her reddened meat with gusto. 

Bending over Garrett's now accessible loins, Rosemary could see that the 
four of them formed a human fucking chain. Her cunt was stuck on the fence 
post of Bullock's hard prick, Bullock's mouth was on Celia's big mountainous 
breasts, Celia's pussy was mashed over Garrett's raping tongue and his huge, 
monstrous cock was now in Rosemary's mouth. Dear God! She was glad she 
hadn't decided to try and fuck this enormous gigantic king of cocks! Trying 
as hard as possible, she could only get about one-third of its length inside 
her mouth. She lay down toward it, sucking the hot, throbbing, thick pulsing 
pole while she still bounced up and down on Bullock's jabbing prick that 
sent such incredible sparks up through her aching pussy. She was so close to 
igniting and sparking out! 

A mighty thrust of Bullock's hard loins did it. "GAGHHHH!" she screamed 
around the choking hot prick as she felt Bullock's broad red-hot poker 
skewer into the aching needing flesh of her cunt, deeper than ever. "Ah... 
ahhh... aghhhhh..." she groaned in anguish... and her body stiffened over 
his impaling flesh stick, feeling the great spasms shake her whole body and 
her vaginal walls squeezing and squeezing to milk his hot rod... to trigger 
the milky cum from his balls. She let Garrett's cock slip from her mouth. 
She could no longer pay attention to it... needing everything she had to 
finish the wracking orgasm that was shaking her to the roots of her hair. 

A chain reaction set in then. Rosemary could see it happen from her high 
seat on Bullock's cock that suddenly rammed into her with the force of a 
freight train, hurling the speeding iron spike into her belly, and from it 
came the first boiling steam of his semen, gushing deep into the dark tunnel 
of her still-convulsing belly. 

"JEEEEEEEEESSSSSSUUUUSSSS!" He screamed, pulling away from Celia's weary 
breasts and throwing his head back into the pillow, the great cords in his 
muscular neck standing out like ropes. He was humping now in time with the 
spurts of sperm that hosed out of his bursting cock in a spasmodic rhythm. 

Celia felt Bullock pull away from her chewed and tortured breast. His 
scream, coming so close after Rosemary's, told her they had reached their 
zeniths and were hanging in that brief promised flight, soaring into space. 
Celia felt her own orgasm beginning, her clitoris rolling on Garrett's 
practiced tongue like a hard seed whose time has come to open and pour out 
its promise to the sun. The daring tongue threw itself into her supercharged 
tiny battery of life and suddenly tripped the light switch, throwing out a 
series of impulses that flowed through her body to charge and illuminate 
every raw nerve end in the whole intricate feminine organism. There was no 
recalling the demons that had first been unchained inside her with Web's 
initiation. They were loose and raving now, unleashed by the ceaseless 
licking and sucking of her naked clitoris, which now spread sparks that 
burst into uncontrolled flames to devour her. 

"AHHHHH... GOOOOODDDDDDDD!" she screamed out her tormented rapture. Her 
loins, shamelessly aroused and blotting out all reason, jerked spasmodically 
and moved her clitoris in a circular motion against the roughly divine 
texture of Garrett's outstretched tongue. All that mattered on the face of 
the globe were the salacious shafts of pleasure being propelled through 
Celia's flesh like tiny fire needles that pierced her in all directions and 
through every cell. 

Garrett thrust the thick wet arrow of his tongue into the quivering vagina, 
absorbing all the sticky cum juice he could. It flowed profusely over his 
nose and chin. The milky outpouring drained too much volume for even his 
greedy mouth and spilled down in drops onto his hairy chest. He savored her 
young juice, but his own naked cock was unmouthed by Rosemary's screaming 
climax, and it was clamoring now for immediate relief. 

He couldn't think of a better place to put it than in the quaking, soaking 
tight young cunt he'd sucked to such violent bliss. Garrett's strong arms 
reached up and pulled the childlike Celia off his wet sticky face and down 
over his great thick hairy body. She was still quivering and shivering, but 
her body was weakened. 

She clung to his chest like a frightened kitten. 

Reaching down over her bare-mooned ass, he guided his huge throbbing 
unsatisfied cock into her spread-open palpitating pussy that still pulsed 
faintly in the afterglow of her orgasm. Only the head was in, but the 
sensation of her viscous young meaty cunt lips was incredibly delicious. 
He'd bring her off again while she was still limp from her first cataclysm. 
She'd get a taste of his pole... his hot giant pole right up into that 
greedy little cunt. 

Gruntings and groanings and mewlings were going off all around him, 
punctuated with climatic screams of filth and obscenity, but Patrick had 
stretched his own blasting out and had made it last as long as possible. His 
balls were ready to erupt through the skin sac if he didn't let go soon. 
There must be a gallon of thick creamy semen stored in those rocky vaults, 
and he couldn't last... much... longer. 

Esther was raving like a madwoman, her head lolling from side to side, 
sending waves of golden hair tossing like the mane of a lust-crazed mare. 
She willed her beautiful nightmare not to end. She wouldn't be able to stand 
it if it ended too soon! She tried to stuff the head between her aching 
thighs into her quaking, clasping cunt hole, to devour its maddened tongue 
that sent such delight arching through her sex-starved loins. 

Hilda had come off twice, and still Patrick lunged into her sopping slit, 
still hard and rigid as an iron blunt-ended club. Her pussy still glowed 
warmly, and she squirmed and rotated her pelvis around his stabbing shaft 
because she might just bring it to life again before Patrick gunned his 
motor. A tiny rising twitch gave her hope, and she ground it up to him a 
little harder. 

Patrick could taste the flowing juicy cuntal secretions in the back of his 
throat as he tongue-fucked Esther in time to the now vicious digs of his 
prick into Hilda's hot tight flesh that was grinding up to him again. Both 
pussies were milking him at once, Esther's on his driving tongue and Hilda's 
on his dynamite stick. Oh Jesus! There'd never been anything like it! Not 
even Cicero or Caesar could have felt anything more depraved or lascivious 
than this! 

Suddenly Esther mashed his head into her writhing, gyrating 
belly-dance-grinding pussy so hard that he thought he'd lose his breath, but 
he managed to keep his nostrils free except for cunt hairs. "AHH... 
AHHHHHHHHHH... AHHHHHHHHHHH..." She chanted a climbing wail so inhuman that 
Patrick felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. His cock seemed to rise 
too, and swell to monstrous size inside Hilda's seething cunt. Esther was 
getting a lesson from a prize pupil that she'd long needed to learn, and 
Hilda was getting a man who could hold out long enough to satisfy her 
voracious, amoral pussy that only wanted to fuck and fuck and fuck! 

Patrick rammed it into both sets of cunt flesh with furied abandon and 
suddenly choked and burbled his own too-long restrained tidal wave. Like a 
long wave of applause with the faces going on and on, like human wheat 
stalks, they moved in ripples by his power. The power was surging out now in 
great gushes, and the roar in his ears was deafening. He pumped it out 
freely, and the thick sperm-laden cum fluid spewed out in great roars to 
echo inside the absorbent cunt-flesh. On and on he spent his all, his gifted 
tongue not forgetting that Esther still moaned that he not leave her too 
soon. 

At long long last there were only a few spatters of applause, and he felt 
his cock, weary and exultant, pulse a few more jets of dying power, and he 
was still. Esther had fallen away and lay senseless a few feet from his 
open-mouthed curly red head. 

Chapter Eight 

Web parked his car in front of Peabody, slamming the car door behind him. He 
couldn't remember ever being so frustrated... sitting on that damn highway 
while they cleared away the rubble and glass and twisted metal of a terrible 
and spectacular wreck. He felt sorry for the poor sons of bitches who'd been 
in it... but he also was impatient as hell with the slowness of the Highway 
Patrol, wreckers, and ambulance crew. 

He ran up the stairs two at a time. The music was still going, so the party 
must still be swinging. He stopped in the doorway as cold as if a bullet had 
caught him in the gut. The light was dim with only the candles, but not too 
dim for him to see that the whole place was covered with naked bodies! Naked 
bodies every place you looked... all over the chairs, the chintz sofas, the 
faded carpet... a goddamned sea of naked bodies! He wiped his face, hanging 
on to the doorframe. Jesus Christ! It was a goddamned orgy! 

A closer look revealed that the naked bodies were fucking! In every 
conceivable possible way that man had devised-and the apes before him! They 
were fucking all over the place! He shook his head to clear it, but it 
didn't go away. They were still at it. Twosomes, threesomes, foursomes. Web 
had never seen anything like it in all his life, and he thought he'd seen 
enough that nothing could ever shock him now... but he was! Shocked and 
amazed and, in some weird offbeat way, stimulated. 

He saw Rosemary come out the kitchen door on the far side of the room and 
pick her way to where he stood. She was as naked as the rest of them, and 
the only one who wasn't fucking. She walked right up to him and held out her 
hand. 

"Like a bite?" She held out a curled pink shrimp. "I got hungry." She waved 
her hand behind her at the sucking, moaning, fucking, wailing bodies. 

Web shook his head dumbly, staring at her naked white body as though it were 
a photograph, but he could see she was breathing as her round mounds of 
breasts rose and fell. 

"Like to join the party?" She caught his hand and put it on her naked 
breast. His cock just automatically jerked and rose reflexively. 

"Wait a minute. You can't go in there like that. It wouldn't be decent." 
Before Web knew what was happening, she'd jerked off his jacket and was 
working quickly at his belt, zipper, shirt, buttons, and tie. He helped her, 
not bothering to question the logic of her argument. 

He rammed past Rosemary before they got to his socks and shoes... but he was 
unaware they were still there. Web peered into the gloomy room, stepping 
over bodies and peering hard at every female head. His stupid goddamned cock 
was poling out now as hard as the rest of them. 

Then suddenly he stopped. Celia was there... as he'd known, really, from the 
moment he'd stepped into this inferno of lust she would be. 

Celia was caught like a beautiful butterfly on the pin of that goddamned 
Garrett bastard's cock... impaled as he, Webster McCullough, had impaled her 
downstairs on the couch. She was doing what he'd taught her. Doing what she 
hadn't even known existed until he'd taught her! But goddamn it to hell! 
Celia didn't have to be such a fucking quick study! She didn't have to sit 
there fucking up and down and riding that prick's hot cock! 

Just looking at her little round ass, the cheeks all firm and round and 
proud, bouncing up and down, sent his anger up to the top of his head and it 
was about to explode! Celia's little puckered asshole came into view as she 
rode forward. A tiny kiss-pouted crinkled hole. She wanted fucking so bad 
she even had to have that old fart's cock up her cunt... well, he'd show her 
what fucking was. By God, he'd ram it to her good and see how well she liked 
fucking! 

Her brain was so numb now that she didn't react very fast... her tortured 
body hurting so bad with the pain of Garrett's damaging, huge, punishing 
prick that she wished she could die... so when she felt a body behind her, 
it took a while for it to register. She had no idea how long that body had 
been there. She just wished futilely that it would pull her off this cutting 
instrument and put her bruised body to bed. 

Celia kept pulling up, hoping to ease the pain of Garrett's invading giant's 
tearing prod that stretched her beyond the elastic capacity of her hurting 
insides. Suddenly she felt something probing at her backside. Something hot 
and hard was trying to dig into her rectum, and hard hands were pushing her 
over so she could be rammed. Oh no! Not there! No! She couldn't stand any 
more pain! 

"You want to fuck, baby! Well you're going to get fucked like you've never 
been fucked before!" The words were snarled at the back of her neck, and she 
could feel a hot breath rasp out the terrible words. To punctuate their 
lewdness, the hot flesh rod stabbed into the outer edge of her anus. She 
screamed and tried to pull away, which only impaled her further on Garrett's 
huge throbbing shaft that he was pressing up into her belly. 

Web shoved his bull-maddened prick farther into Celia's tiny virginal 
asshole and watched her fall forward onto Garrett's chest. He wanted to 
punish her for what she'd done to him... was doing to him right now, with 
her tight little pussy, that had not known another prick but his until 
tonight, filled with that phony bastard's cock. Web drove again mercilessly 
into the inflexible ring of muscle inside her asshole, never backing off 
this time, but forcing his raging penis. 

"NO-0-O-O-OOOOOOO!" Celia screamed, her hands tearing into Garrett's chest 
hair and twisting and pulling them out. Garrett only batted her hands away 
with one huge paw and pulled her farther forward by the wrists until she was 
stretched on the rack that pulled her tortured body tighter and tighter, 
both orifices now full with two separate cocks that threatened to come 
together inside her fragile belly. 

The reluctant ring of muscle had finally given, and Web strained forward, 
driving hard and panting and groaning to distract and yet focus on the 
throbbing fleshy rod of his pole sunk to the hilt in Celia's asshole. "Back 
it in to me," he snarled, clenching her naked white hips with both his 
powerful hands. 

Celia tried to obey, her sobbing head hanging on Garrett's heaving chest, 
and then her numbed brain, that had recoiled in horror and left her agonized 
body defenseless, grasped the sound of that voice. The voice that belonged 
to the huge penis that was fucking her backside so pitilessly... it sounded 
dimly like Web when he was very angry. Feebly she twisted her head and 
forced her wet, glazed eyes to open-and it was Web! 

The pounding cocks raced into Celia's lax body, Garrett's in her tight 
almost virginal pussy and Web's in her till now completely virginal asshole. 
Her terrible sobbing and moaning only incited Garrett's hot pole to stab 
harder. Jesus! She was tight and good and putting on a hell of an act. God 
damn! He was going to get rich off this one girl alone. 

Web tried to turn off his ears... to concentrate on the feel of the 
salacious debauchery of fucking Celia's asshole while she let that bastard 
fuck her pussy. 

"Race you to... the finish line..." Garrett panted, grunting and shoving 
upward into the deep recesses of Celia's belly. Web saw red as clearly as if 
Garrett's hand had reached up to wave a flag in his face. He drove into 
Celia's clenching rectum fiercely, feeling the rubbery walls milking him and 
forcing him closer and closer. 

By going completely limp with the agony and pain, Celia felt a twinge of 
something. She couldn't be sure. Willing her twin orifices to suffer the 
rampaging cocks that thundered into her, Celia held her breath and waited a 
moment. The pain was mixed with something else! She caught her breath and 
waited again. Oh God! The pain was going! 

"Come on, baby... pound it back to me!" Web grunted out between clenched 
teeth. Celia nodded dumbly and clenched her eyes shut and shoved backwards 
as far as she could. Oh God! It was a miracle! The terrible, wracking, 
degrading, perverted pain was almost gone, and a searing, tingling, 
tantalizing pleasure was creeping through her ravaged membranes. 

She tried to do the same with Garrett's enormous, choking, filling prick 
that was pounding into her with increasing fury-and found it worked! Oh God! 
Soon she was catching on to the strange rhythm of two pillaging penises. 
First forward and then back, meeting them as they plunged into her 
pleasure-giving body! She was delivered! 

Riding the crest, she bucked back and forth, feeling the lascivious, 
libidinal rapture replace the pain entirely. Her cunt was alive and sucking 
now on Garrett's huge cock, and then her asshole, which Web was fucking into 
so hard and furiously, only added to the showering needles that began to 
stab into her body with pricks and nicks of pleasure. The rack was a rocking 
ride now that drove her faster and faster to some inexplicable nirvana that 
only her body, coursing with an ancient knowledge that had nothing to do 
with her training or her thoughts, knew about. She let it happen and was 
only a passenger. Web and Garrett were the drivers, and they made a 
masterful team... in perfect harmony now and fucking hard to bring her to 
her destination. 

Garrett reached for her bobbing breasts as Web's hands dug into her white 
hips, and they whipped her with them to the victory... cock in cunt... prick 
in ass... almost nose to nose inside her desire-ridden flesh. 

And suddenly it changed... and it was she who rode them, spurring their 
laboring members with her muscular walls of tight-sucking flesh. She wanted 
it all! She wanted to be the star! It was her show! She bucked and backed 
and rose and fell, and they did not speak but only heaved their breaths 
through their laboring chests as she milked them, obediently fucking into 
her with all their strength. 

Suddenly she felt the power, the strange power inside her body like the 
breathless wave of silent, pregnant emotion that rose from an audience when 
they waited so still for what you would do. It was holding the whole world 
in your hands. She paused at the peak of her rise, and she could feel them 
both hesitate and wait for her signal... their breaths suddenly wadded in 
their chests... and then she was cumming! 

Celia stiffened for that one breathless moment that was forever. The hot 
flood of her orgasm started. The climax and the roar of the crowd was in her 
ears, and she was rolling to heaven on the wave of blazing, gushing, rising, 
cresting, billowing, crashing, churning cum that boiled into her sucking 
body. 

Celia was sunk on Garrett's chest, her breasts held in Web's warm limp 
palms, for he had fallen on her back and she was sandwiched closely between 
the deflating cocks still sunk in her exhausted body and the heaving chests, 
one beneath and one behind... panting out their approval. With her eyes 
closed, she thought she could hear the sound of soft clapping! Slowly Celia 
realized they were surrounded by the cast of players. Their performance was 
being acclaimed, and she now had another role to play. 


End
