Sorority Sex Freak
by Ward Fulton


INTRODUCTION 

Much has been written today about the turned-on college students with their 
addiction to drugs, their I antisocial behavior, and their rejection of 
established I moral values. Every day that passes, the press adds to ; the 
flood of material on such subjects. Some of this ! material, of course, is 
sociologically sound and valuable, while a great deal of it is pure 
sensationalism. 

It is important to remember that for every ; youngster who "freaks out" 
there are many more who ' are genuinely interested in doing something con-j 
structive about the current state of affairs. They do not merely give lip 
service to ease their social consciences; they actively participate in 
public programs : and personal projects to improve situations they feel are 
in need of attention. 

This novel, Sorority Sex Freak, tells the story of one such well-meaning 
student: Suzanne Delacorte, only daughter of a wealthy Detroit family who 
plans to become a social worker, and as part of her sociology studies at 
Wayne State University moves into a slum neighborhood to learn how the other 
half lives. Suzanne learns not only the degrading social and financial 
conditions of those who live in Detroit's inner city, but she also finds out 
about their unbridled sexuality. 

Her own dormant desires are brought to the surface through a series of 
traumatic experiences at the hands of neighborhood youths, as well as two 
lesbian girl friends. Suzanne's strict upbringing experiences a rude shock 
as she inadvertently discovers that putting out a hand to the 
underprivileged can often have unwelcome consequences. 

Suzanne has been brought up with the best of everything: wealth, social 
position, and careful supervision of her private life by her parents, who 
wanted to make sure that their only daughter got a good education and 
married into a good family. Their reaction to Suzanne's decision to rent her 
own apartment is one of resentment and near horror. "Live in that 
neighborhood?" says Mrs. Delacorte. "Among all those terrible people?" 

As it turns out, Mrs. Delacorte is quite right, in a way-although not 
exactly the way she thinks. Ironically, Suzanne is quite right, too, for her 
main goal is learning, and she certainly learns a great deal in the course 
of her experiences. What she learns is not mere classroom knowledge, either; 
it is from meeting life at its rawest, most primitive level. It is at once 
painful and exciting; shocking and profoundly revealing. 

Such a novel as this could hardly have come about by accident. In keeping 
with their policy of bringing socially significant themes to the public 
attention, the publishers approached Ward Fulton, well-known author of many 
books dealing with American behavioral patterns. Mr. Fulton lived for 
several years in the city of Detroit, and from his personal experiences and 
research in that city has derived the materials of this book, set in the 
same locality where the author lived himself. Many of the episodes are taken 
from real life, from experiences related to Mr. Fulton by persons who have 
had personal contact with the underprivileged families trying to eke out a 
living in the inner city of Detroit. 

This is not a book for the squeamish; the degrading encounters leading to 
Suzanne Delacorte's sexual awakening are detailed with graphic explicitness 
in order to stress the sordid upbringing endured by many teenagers through 
the circumstances of their poverty, and their premature exposure to sex at 
its most elemental level. 

Mr. Fulton recalls instances of seeing young girls of eleven and twelve 
openly soliciting men on Third Avenue in Detroit, offering sexual service in 
return for a dollar or less. He remembers a small boy on West Forest Avenue, 
a child not more than eight or nine, who admitted earning money for 
cigarettes by masturbating anyone for a quarter. 

For those readers who have only vague ideas of how the poor live in a city 
slum, Sorority Sex Freak will come as a soul-searing revelation, 
particularly as it is based on fact. Not since Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist 
and David Copperfield has a writer captured so completely and accurately the 
essential spirit of life 

This novel, Sorority Sex Freak, tells the story of one such well-meaning 
student: Suzanne Delacorte, only daughter of a wealthy Detroit family who 
plans to become a social worker, and as part of her sociology studies at 
Wayne State University moves into a slum neighborhood to learn how the other 
half lives. Suzanne learns not only the degrading social and financial 
conditions of those who live in Detroit's inner city, but she also finds out 
about their unbridled sexuality. 

Her own dormant desires are brought to the surface through a series of 
traumatic experiences at the hands of neighborhood youths, as well as two 
lesbian girl friends. Suzanne's strict upbringing experiences a rude shock 
as she inadvertently discovers that putting out a hand to the 
underprivileged can often have unwelcome consequences. 

Suzanne has been brought up with the best of everything: wealth, social 
position, and careful supervision of her private life by her parents, who 
wanted to make sure that their only daughter got a good education and 
married into a good family. Their reaction to Suzanne's decision to rent her 
own apartment is one of resentment and near horror. "Live in that 
neighborhood?" says Mrs. Delacorte. "Among all those terrible people?" 

As it turns out, Mrs. Delacorte is quite right, in a way-although not 
exactly the way she thinks. Ironically, Suzanne is quite right, too, for her 
main goal is learning, and she certainly learns a great deal in the course 
of her experiences. What she learns is not mere classroom knowledge, either; 
it is from meeting life at its rawest, most primitive level. It is at once 
painful and exciting; shocking and profoundly revealing. 

Such a novel as this could hardly have come about by accident. In keeping 
with their policy of bringing socially significant themes to the public 
attention, the publishers approached Ward Fulton, well-known author of many 
books dealing with American behavioral patterns. Mr. Fulton lived for 
several years in the city of Detroit, and from his personal experiences and 
research in that city has derived the materials of this book, set in the 
same locality where the author lived himself. Many of the episodes are taken 
from real life, from experiences related to Mr. Fulton by persons who have 
had personal contact with the underprivileged families trying to eke out a 
living in the inner city of Detroit. 

This is not a book for the squeamish; the degrading encounters leading to 
Suzanne Delacorte's sexual awakening are detailed with graphic explicitness 
in order to stress the sordid upbringing endured by many teenagers through 
the circumstances of their poverty, and their premature exposure to sex at 
its most elemental level. 

Mr. Fulton recalls instances of seeing young girls of eleven and twelve 
openly soliciting men on Third Avenue in Detroit, offering sexual service in 
return for a dollar or less. He remembers a small boy on West Forest Avenue, 
a child not more than eight or nine, who admitted earning money for 
cigarettes by masturbating anyone for a quarter. 

For those readers who have only vague ideas of how the poor live in a city 
slum, Sorority Sex Freak will come as a soul-searing revelation, 
particularly as it is based on fact. Not since Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist 
and David Copperfield has a writer captured so completely and accurately the 
essential spirit of life among the so-called underprivileged. 

In addition, the importance of an emotionally acceptable sexual awakening is 
stressed, for through the horror of Suzanne's first sexual experience is 
illustrated how a young woman's attitude towards sex can be adversely 
affected, coloring her entire outlook on future relations, and altering and 
heightening her normal responses. 

Not only the student of human behavior, but the parents of teenage children, 
will learn a significant lesson from Suzanne's story, which is a reflection 
of one side of urban life that constitutes a major social problem in America 
today. 

-The Publishers 

 CHAPTER ONE 

The mall was crowded with students, all eager to take advantage of the 
sunshine and the soft spring breeze that blew gently off the river. Every 
bench was occupied, and even the wide concrete borders which fringed the 
flowerbeds were jammed with chattering teenagers, their spirits lifted by 
the final departure of winter and the sight of thousands of daffodils which 
heralded the approaching season. 

The clock on Old Main indicated eleven-thirty, and Suzanne glanced up 
impatiently as she pushed her way through the throng. Yvonne had said 
eleven-fifteen. Where was she? Nervously, Suzanne turned and bumped into a 
tall, blond young man, who grinned at her impudently. "What's the hurry?" he 
said in a lazy drawl, his eyes quickly scanning her figure approvingly. 

"Sorry," she muttered, stepping back, then going on again. Her ears burned 
as she heard a soft whistle of appreciation before he became lost in the 
crowd. She smiled to herself; he had been rather nice-looking. But not as 
handsome as Sam. No one was as handsome as Sam. Oh, why couldn't she have 
gone with him to Europe? Almost subliminally she heard her mother's voice: 
"Go to Europe with that young man? Suzanne, you must be out of your mind. 
What would the neighbors say? Of course, if you got married first..." 

Married. Who would want to get married at nineteen? Maybe some kids did, but 
then usually because they had to. And Suzanne had decided when she was 
fifteen that she was going to wait, at least until she was out of college. 
Of course, after meeting Sam, she had been sorely tempted. Sam was a very 
persistent suitor; it had taken all her will power not to give in to him, 
not only to his proposal, but his propositions as well. 

She felt a tingling in her loins at the memory of his strong face above 
hers, his hands gently caressing her body, and the suggestive bulge in his 
pants. That bulge. Oh, how many times hadn't she wanted to reach out and 
feel it, the way his fingers would feel her breasts. But every time, her 
mother's voice rang in her ears, and her mounting desires would suddenly 
turn to guilt and self-recrimination, and Sam would again go home, 
frustrated and disappointed. No wonder he went to Europe; he was probably 
sleeping with every available girl he met. At least that's what Yvonne had 
said to her. Yvonne ... where was she? 

Suzanne glanced up at the clock again. Eleven-forty. She hated people who 
weren't punctual, and Yvonne should know better. 

"There you are, darling!" 

The throaty greeting penetrated above the noisy clamor, and Suzanne turned 
with a smile of relief. 

"Yvonne, where've you been?" 

The angular face beamed at her. "Right here. Since eleven-fifteen. I guess I 
was too busy checking over the new talent. Christ, I think these kids get 
sexier each semester." 

Yvonne's overly large and overly made-up eyes followed two young men as they 
walked past. She gave a soft whistle. 

"Did you see the basket on that one?" 

Suzanne grabbed her arm, and began guiding her through the crowd towards 
Woodward Avenue. 

"Yvonne, you're too much. Can't you think of anything else?" 

Yvonne laughed, a thunderous bellow that had once been likened to the blast 
of the tugboats on the river. 

"Anything else, darling? Oh, come off it, my little vestal virgin. Once you 
spread your legs for a man, you'll find there's not much else worth thinking 
about." 

Suzanne bit her lip and remained silent. Although she was rather proud of 
her virginity, she had to admit the many moments when she had almost given 
it away to Sam. Oh, Sam, where the hell are you right now? 

"Believe me, Suzanne, I hope you do get laid pretty soon. It's good for the 
digestion, among other things. Where do you want to eat? Verne's?" 

They turned down the sidewalk and walked past the Maccabees Building. 
Suzanne kept silent, with her friend's words echoing in her brain. Maybe she 
would get laid after all. No, no, no. The little voice rose again, as it 
always did; save it for Sam. He's the only one. He loves you. And you love 
him. Let his shaft be the first one to break through into your pulsating 
cavern. Oh, Sam ... Sam ... 

She blinked her eyes as they left the sunlit sidewalk and entered the 
darkened interior of the bar. Yvonne led the way over to a corner table and 
collapsed into a chair. Suzanne seated herself opposite and smiled. 

"Good to see you," she said sincerely, looking across the table at her 
friend, thinking again that she was indeed fortunate to have an older woman 
to guide her through the first hectic weeks of classes at Wayne. Not that 
she was helpless; but after graduating from a high school class of only 
sixty-two, she felt more than overpowered by the size of the student body. 
She remembered hearing that the total enrollment at Wayne State was over 
twenty-five thousand. No more personal touches from the teacher; she would 
be merely a small insignificant cog in the educational machine. 

"What are you having?" 

The slender, pale-faced girl had approached the table, pencil and pad 
poised. Yvonne looked up and blew smoke in her face, unintentionally. 

"I'm having a hamburger, dear," she said. "Okay for you, Suzanne?" 

Suzanne nodded. "Yes, please. And a large Coke." 

"I'll take a vodka and seven," said Yvonne, "I need a little something this 
morning. Last night just about wore me out." 

She gripped her cigarette firmly, and Suzanne noticed the fine lines around 
her lips, matching those at the corners of her eyes. Suzanne had never asked 
Yvonne her age, but she suspected it was around thirty. Yvonne had been 
going to Wayne for over six years. She jokingly referred to herself as a 
professional student. 

"So, you excited?" 

Suzanne nodded. 

"Of course I am. I've been looking forward to this for years. Of course, 
mother isn't very happy about my getting the apartment." 

Yvonne's throaty laugh echoed through the bar. "Of course she wouldn't be. 
She's afraid you're going to start dragging in every male on campus. But 
then ..." Yvonne's eyes twinkled. "I guess there's not much chance of that 
as long as you're carrying that torch for Sam, huh?" 

Suzanne nodded. "Not a chance." 

"Well, you can always come up and spend those lonely evenings with me and 
Carole." 

"Thanks, but I plan to do a lot of studying. I'm also going to start a 
little project of my own, investigating the poor families in the 
neighborhood. That's one of the reasons I'm moving into your building. It's 
close enough to that section up on West Forest. I want to really find out 
how those people live and what their problems are." 

Yvonne sniffed. "Just watch yourself. You might be able to walk down the 
streets in Grosse Pointe at night without getting raped, but not in this 
neighborhood. So just be careful." 

"I will." 

"And . .." Yvonne giggled. "If you do get in a situation that looks like 
trouble, remember to go for the groin. A swift kick in the balls will stop 
just about anyone." 

"I'll remember," Suzanne said, flushing slightly. She leaned back as the 
waitress brought their drinks. Yvonne lifted her glass. 

"Well, here's to it," she said, "And may he be hot, horny and handsome, 
whoever he is." 

"Yvonne, you're too much," said Suzanne. 

"Never," was the blunt reply, "And take it from me, my girl, once you've had 
a good hard cock up your innocent little pussy, you'll know what life's all 
about." 

"Yvonne, don't talk like that," said Suzanne, her face turning scarlet. 
"It's not nice." 

"You sound like your mother," said Yvonne cynically. "No wonder you're an 
only child. She probably let your old man in once, and that was that. Don't 
you make the same mistake. There's nothing like a good fuck to keep a girl 
in shape." 

The waitress returned with their food, and Suzanne breathed a sigh of 
relief. She liked Yvonne very much, but her incessant preoccupation with sex 
made Suzanne feel uncomfortable. She knew what Yvonne said was probably 
true, but that was one area of truth she hadn't yet learned to face without 
embarrassment. Her mind fled back to the last night she had spent with Sam 
before he flew to Europe. They had attended a dance at the Detroit Yacht 
Club, and afterwards Sam drove to a secluded spot on Belle Isle, and they 
sat watching the lights of the ships on the river and the distant skyline of 
Windsor, and Suzanne had wanted to cry her eyes out at the thought of being 
without Sam for three months. He had put his arms around her, and their 
kisses were deep and prolonged. She felt her loins stirring with desire, and 
Sam's fingers caressing her breasts did nothing to ease her mounting 
passions. 

Finally, Sam had taken her hand and gently placed it over his crotch. Before 
she jerked it away, she was conscious of the hard, throbbing bulge there. 
"Please, please," he had begged her, but she had turned away, her face hot 
with anger, not at him, but with herself and her inability to do what she 
really wanted to; but deep in her mind, her mother's voice still rang out 
commandingly. "I'm going to be gone some time," Sam said, "Give me something 
to remember." She shook her head and looked away. She was conscious of Sam 
moving, and she heard the rustle of fabric. When she had turned back, she 
saw in the dim light, the white outline of his cock protruding from his fly. 
His hand was around it, and he was gently massaging it, up and down. 

"Sam!" Her voice was tinged with terror. 

"Relax," he had said, "It won't bite you." And he had taken her hand again, 
and this time her fingers felt the naked flesh of his penis, firm and thick 
and long. 

Almost with one movement, she pulled away, opened the car door and stumbled 
across the grass, her dress tearing on the branch of a tree. She came to a 
stop at the edge of the beach, and stood there, staring out across the 
river, her mind whirling, her breasts heaving, and within her loins the 
incredible sensation of sexual stimulation like she had never known before. 
She wanted to go back, to feel his shaft, to close her lips around it, to 
feel it slide into her. She wanted it, oh, how she wanted it; but she stood 
there, alone, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

After a while, she heard a soft footstep, and turned to see Sam standing 
behind her. "I'm sorry," he said, touching her arm, "but I had to do 
something about it. I couldn't stand it any longer." Something told her, 
without her asking him, what he had done. And within her heart, she didn't 
blame him. She sometimes masturbated herself at home. "Come, I'll take you 
home," he had said, and without a word, she let herself be guided back to 
the car. They kissed goodnight, and the next day Sam left for Europe. 

Oh, how she wished she had given in to his desires that night. If only she 
didn't feel the way she did about sex. If only she could be like her other 
girlfriends who admitted freely that they slept with boys. She wanted to; 
God knows she wanted to. But she had yet to chase the overwhelming specter 
of guilt and retribution from her mind, the feeling that if she did she 
would be guilty of the greatest transgression. "It's sinful the way some 
young people carry on," her mother had said so many times. "I'm glad Suzanne 
is a good girl." If she was such a good girl, why did it make her feel so 
bad? 

Suzanne followed Yvonne up the steps to the blackened, time-worn apartment 
house on Hancock Street. Just a few blocks from the campus, the building 
would be most convenient, not only for school, but for her intended research 
into the slum area to the west, peopled by white and black families who 
formed a major portion of Detroit's economically deprived population. 

Yvonne pushed open the door, and the smell of stale cooking odors greeted 
their nostrils. A slovenly looking woman was mopping the tiled lobby. She 
looked up and grinned. 

"Hi, Yvonne," she said, and then her beady eyes fastened on Suzanne. "This 
must be your friend, Suzanne?" 

Yvonne introduced her as Mrs. Sansome, and Suzanne shook hands, conscious of 
the dampness of the fingers that enclosed her own. She wanted to reach into 
her purse for a Kleenex to wipe the stickiness, but she decided to wait. 

"You'll be renting 8B," Mrs. Sansome continued. "It's on the third floor, 
just above Yvonne and Carole. It's a nice place, and it has a nice view from 
the balcony." She gave a loud cackle, and Yvonne sniffed deprecatingly. 

"View?" she snapped. "You call Hancock a view?" 

"S'better than looking into the alley," retorted Mrs. Sansome with some 
spirit. "Come, Suzanne. I'll show you." 

They climbed the stairs, their footsteps echoing hollowly through the 
building. Mrs. Sansome was breathing heavily by the time they reached the 
third floor. Her stooped shoulders shrieked of years of drudgery and her 
emaciated frame looked like it could blow away. Suzanne made a mental note 
to talk to her landlady about her background; obviously she was one of many 
poorer persons who supplemented their income by taking care of apartments. 
Yes, that would be another aspect of her studies: the exploitation of the 
poor by rich real estate tycoons. Detroit was notorious for slum landlords, 
and while this building wasn't exactly a slum, it had obviously not been 
well cared for over the years. 

"Well, here it is," said Mrs. Sansome. "It ain't elegant but it's clean." 

They walked into the living room, sparsely furnished with a well-worn couch 
and chairs, a small desk and two lamps. Through a hallway Suzanne glimpsed 
the kitchen and bathroom, and off one end of the living room was a small 
alcove with a double bed. 

"Same as ours," said Yvonne. "Only cleaner, maybe." 

"Sure," snapped Mrs. Sansome. "Yours was clean when you moved in." 

Yvonne snorted. "That was five years ago," she said. "It hasn't even been 
painted since then." 

"No, and I wonder if it's ever been cleaned," retorted Mrs. Sansome. 

Yvonne raised her eyebrows and glared. "Another crack like that and I'll 
report you to the Board of Health," she said icily. She turned to Suzanne. 
"Don't mind us, dear. Mrs. Sansome and I have been friendly enemies for 
years. She's just jealous because I have more boyfriends staying overnight 
than she does." 

Suzanne walked into the kitchen and looked around. The room was small, and 
the stove very old, but there was an air of warmth about it that appealed to 
her. She thought for a second of her father's beautiful home in Grosse 
Pointe, with the lavish display of built-in appliances, Formica counter 
tops, hand-rubbed cabinets and a brand-new dishwasher and trash disposal. 
But that was his home. This apartment was going to be hers; at least for a 
while. She turned to Mrs. Sansome with a smile. 

"It looks fine," she said. "I'll start moving in right away. I have some 
things in my car outside." 

Yvonne moved to the door. "See you later, darling. I have to get ready. I 
have a date. 'Bye now." 

Mrs. Sansome grinned, and turned back to Suzanne. "She's a card," she said 
in a raspy voice, "but I like her. Oh, the rent's payable in advance. 
Eighty-five a month." 

Suzanne fumbled in her purse and took out her checkbook, wrote a check 
quickly and handed it over. 

"There." 

Mrs. Sansome handed over two keys, and walked downstairs with Suzanne. In 
the lobby she paused and smiled. "You known Yvonne a long time?" she asked 
curiously. 

Suzanne nodded. "About a year," she replied. "We met socially. Why?" 

The old woman shrugged. "Nothing. You just seem a nicer type of girl than 
she is, that's all. Nothing against her, of course, you understand. But I 
can tell you come from a nice family." 

Suzanne smiled. "Thank you. .But I think Yvonne's pretty nice, too, even if 
she is a little rough at times." 

Mrs. Sansome nodded. "Most dykes are," she said. "But then it takes all 
types. See you, Suzanne." 

She waddled off down the hall, her body swaying beneath the weight of the 
bucket and mop she carried. Suzanne stared after her, frowning. Dykes. What 
did she mean by that? She'd never heard that word before. Maybe it referred 
to the section of town where Yvonne had been born. Like Hamtramck, where the 
Poles lived. 

Brushing the thought from her mind, Suzanne walked out of the building and 
down the steps to her MG parked at the sidewalk. She unlocked the trunk and 
began unloading the boxes of things she had brought over. She was busily 
stacking them on the sidewalk when she heard a voice. 

"Hi. You moving in the neighborhood?" 

She turned to see a young man standing behind her. He looked very young, 
possibly not more than sixteen, she imagined, with a shock of blond curly 
hair and an engaging smile on his face. He was dressed in blue jeans and a 
torn T-shirt, and had no shoes. 

"Yes, I am," she replied. 

"Here, let me help." 

He came forward, and started lifting one of the boxes. Suzanne hesitated, 
then smiled. 

"Thank you, that's very kind. But it's a long haul. I'm on the third floor." 

"That's okay," said the young man. "I'm used to stairs. We live on the fifth 
floor." 

"In this building?" 

He laughed. "Oh, no, nothing as nice as this. We're way up on Forest, the 
other side of Third. Hey, what's your name? Mine's Donald." 

"I'm Suzanne," she replied. 

In silence they climbed up to the apartment and deposited their loads on the 
floor of the living room. Donald stared around, then stood back, looking at 
Suzanne with appreciative eyes. 

"This sure is nice," he said enviously. "I wish we had a nice place like 
this." 

"You live with your folks?" asked Suzanne. 

"Uh-huh. My mother and my older brother Ted. Say, I clean apartments real 
cheap. You want me to help you up here?" 

Suzanne laughed. "Well, let me think about it, okay? Maybe when I get 
settled I'll have some chores you can help with. What do you charge?" 

He laughed. "Oh, not much. Maybe a dollar or so. I also run errands, like to 
the store. I only charge fifty cents to go to the store." 

"Oh." Suzanne realized she would be needing some milk, coffee and sugar. 
"Donald, how about picking up some things for me now while I finish 
unpacking?" 

"Okay. I won't charge you this time. Sort of a bonus for a new customer." 

They both laughed, and Suzanne stared at him. He was really such an 
appealing boy, with a fresh, innocent quality to his face. And he seemed 
courteous and respectful, with no hint of the roughness that she imagined 
would characterize a boy growing up in this neighborhood. 

She made out a list, gave him a five-dollar bill, and he ran down the 
stairs, whistling. Suzanne walked to the balcony of her apartment and stared 
down at his figure, running quickly up Hancock Street and disappearing from 
view. She turned back inside, humming to herself. Only a half-hour in her 
new home, and already she'd met someone from the neighborhood, someone that 
she knew would provide valuable research for her social studies. Yes, she 
would certainly have to become better acquainted with Donald and his family. 
They could be her first case history. 

With a sigh, she flopped into a chair and surveyed her new apartment. She 
felt she was going to be very happy here. For the first time in her life, 
she would have a place that was entirely her own. For a split second, she 
wished 

Sam were there with her, and the sign on the door read "Mr. and Mrs." 
instead of merely "Suzanne Delacorte." She made a mental note to write to 
Sam that evening and tell him of her move. i 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Within the following week, Suzanne settled down to her new routine of 
classes at Wayne and studies in the evening, and she found a growing sense 
of satisfaction over her situation. Mr. and Mrs. Delacorte came over one 
night to visit, and stayed only about an hour. Mrs. Delacorte was horrified. 
"You're living in a slum," she said primly. "It's a wonder this building 
hasn't been condemned. Honestly, Suzanne, I don't see how you can be happy 
here." 

Suzanne was thankful for her father's understanding. "You do your thing, 
little girl," he said with a twinkle in his deep blue eyes. "Would you 
believe I lived in an apartment just like this before I met your mother. 
That was before I made it big, of course." Suzanne remembered the many times 
her father had told her about his struggle to succeed and his eventual 
emergence as one of Detroit's leading parts manufacturers. Despite his 
affluence, Mr. Delacorte still retained his earthy quality, and his lack of 
interest in the Grosse Pointe social scene was a constant thorn in his 
wife's side. "Your father just doesn't realize the importance of mixing with 
the right people," Mrs. Delacorte would often tell Suzanne. "Birds of a 
feather, you know, and all that." And Suzanne would exchange a 
conspiratorial look with her father. 

On her third day in her apartment, Suzanne asked Donald if she could come 
and visit his mother. He had checked in with her after classes to see if 
there were any chores she needed done. He was very thrilled at her interest, 
and together they walked up to West Forest Avenue, across the expressway and 
down several blocks to an apartment: building which, in comparison to 
Suzanne's, was almost ready to fall apart. Suzanne repressed a shudder as 
they climbed the stairs, every step creaking from their weight and the walls 
grimy with years of filth. The air was stagnant and smelled of stale 
cigarette smoke, liquor and urine. 

They entered an apartment on the fifth floor, and she sank immediately into 
a chair, panting heavily. Donald shouted out for his mother, and a few 
seconds later, a short, plump woman came ambling into the room. 

"Hey, ma, this is Suzanne, the one I told you about," Donald said, proudly 
showing off a new social conquest. 

The woman stared at Suzanne and grinned. As her thick lips pulled back, her 
bare gums were revealed. 

"Howdy," she said. "S'cuse me. I weren't ex-pectin' company. Wait a minute. 
I'll go put my teeth in." 

Suzanne looked at Donald, and in her mind wondered how such a handsome young 
boy could have come from such a woman. There was hardly one redeeming 
physical feature about her. Her hair had obviously not been combed in weeks. 
The loose dress she wore was covered with food stains, and Suzanne could 
tell she was not wearing any underwear. Her pendulous breasts swayed in 
front of her, hanging down almost to her navel, bumping out against the 
dress with obscene movements. She wore no shoes, and her feet were black. 
Suzanne repressed a shudder, and thought for a moment of her mother, always 
so elegantly groomed, so beautifully dressed, so exquisitely well-mannered. 

"Hey, Ted, you home?" Donald's voice rang out, and a moment later a young 
man entered the room. "This is my brother, Ted," Donald said. Ted looked 
down at Suzanne and grinned. 

"Well, Donald said you wuz something else," he said, his eyes sliding slowly 
over her. "I'll say you are." 

Suzanne blushed and laughed. "You're pretty good-looking yourself, Ted," she 
replied, "but then, so's Donald." 

"Hey, how about that?" said Ted, moving over and sitting on the couch next 
to Suzanne's chair. "Donald says you wanna find out how we live and all that 
shit." 

Suzanne nodded. "Yes, I'm majoring in sociology. I'm planning a project 
based on the living conditions of people in this area." 

Ted laughed coarsely. "Stick around, you'll learn plenty," he said. "We bin 
here "bout two years. Me, I'd rather be back in Kentucky. Least we could go 
rabbit huntin' there. Here all I hunt is girls. There's plenty, too." 

"That's nice," said Suzanne, momentarily out of her depth. She was 
uncomfortably aware of Ted's penetrating glances and the sensuous twist of 
his mouth. He was slightly taller than Donald, and obviously well-built. His 
arm muscles rippled under his shirt, and his belt wrapped tightly around his 
slim waist. For a passing flash, Suzanne caught herself glancing at his 
crotch, which bulged temptingly. But then, she remembered, so did Donald's. 
And so had Sam's ... 

"Well, I feel better now, with my teeth in." The woman came through the door 
and grinned at them. She had made some effort to comb her hair, and her 
teeth gleamed between her lips. She still looked like a grotesque mockery of 
motherhood. "You like somethin' to drink, Suzanne? We got some Cokes." 

"Yes, thank you. That would be nice. I'm a little out of breath from 
climbing those stairs." 

"You get used to it," was the calm reply. 

"You got you a boyfriend?" asked Ted, his eyes still on her breasts. 

Suzanne laughed. "I'm too busy. I'm a student, remember. I don't have much 
time for anything but books." 

"Hell, that ain't no way to live," said Ted. "You got to get out and have a 
little fun. Maybe you'n me could take in a movie some night." 

"You shut your goddamn mouth," came the raucous voice from the kitchen. 
"Don't you go messing round with Suzanne. She ain't your kind of girl, and 
you know it." 

Ted grinned and made a face in the direction of the other room. "She don't 
know nothin'," he said in a low voice. "I go with plenty of chicks. All 
kinds. You ask Donald." 

Donald grinned, looking slightly shamefaced. "He's got lots," he said, "but 
ma don't like him screwing round." 

"You damn right I don't." Heavy footsteps and the clatter of Coke bottles 
signalled her return from the kitchen. "Here, Suzanne. Hope you don't mind 
drinkin' from the bottle. We're kinda short on glasses." 

"That's fine, thank you," Suzanne said. 

"Okay, so Donald says you wanna ask some questions. You jest fire away." 

There was a slight shake to the floor as the woman subsided into a rickety 
chair. Suzanne reached into her purse and took out a small notepad and a 
pencil. As she readied herself, she was grimly aware that Ted's eyes were 
still on her, and his face held a leering, sensuous quality that disturbed 
her. 

The next day, Suzanne settled down to go over her notes on her first case 
history. The details amazed her. Donald's mother confessed that she had been 
married when she was fifteen, and only because she had become pregnant by 
her husband. She had Ted, and two years later Donald, and then shortly 
afterwards her husband had been killed in an airplane crash. She received a 
pension and also assistance from the state. But her income was barely enough 
to keep body and soul together. She decided to move from Kentucky to 
Michigan in the hopes of getting employment. Also, she said, the schools 
would be better for her boys. Unfortunately, her poor educational background 
precluded her from getting anything but the most menial work, and she felt 
she would just as soon stay home and subsist on her pension and welfare 
checks. The boys dropped out of school and earned occasional moneys as best 
they could. Ted worked sometimes as a busboy or as a messenger, but he 
seldom stayed in a job longer than a month. 

Suzanne promised to see what she could do to get the woman situated in a 
position that she could handle and which would bring in some more money for 
her. She seemed grateful, though not overly enthusiastic. She apparently no 
longer seemed to care, as long as she was able to feed herself and her sons 
and pay the low-cost housing rental. Suzanne decided that she would make the 
family her project: try to get the mother situated, and work on the boys to 
instill some sense of responsibility and ambition in them. She mentioned her 
plans to her sociology instructor, who listened attentively, then said, 
"Lotsa luck!" 

She related this to Yvonne, who laughed loudly. "Little Miss Do-Good," she 
said cynically. "Just wait till you've talked to a few more families around 
here. You'll realize you're wasting your time." 

Suzanne was indignant. "No sincere effort to help others is a waste of 
time," she retorted. "Maybe all these people really need is to know someone 
cares about what happens to them." 

Yvonne became deadly serious. "Look, my girl," she said, "I've lived in this 
area for seven years. I know these people. They'll take the handout, but 
they'll never settle down and work. But if you get your kicks, fine, go 
ahead and try. But don't be too disappointed. And above all, don't leave 
yourself open for a pass. Those two kids'll probably just as soon screw you 
as look at you. They've probably been fucking since they were old enough to 
get a hard-on. I know these Kentucky hillbillies. They'll fuck anything. So 
watch out, my girl, unless you want to lose that prize virginity of yours." 

Suzanne remembered Ted's glances at her, and his casual reference to going 
out. But then, she thought, he wouldn't try anything. He knows I'm not 
interested. Besides, she reasoned, if they did, she could always scream. 
She'd read somewhere that nothing scares off a would-be rapist quicker than 
a woman's screams. 

She put her notes away and went into the kitchen. She planned to make a 
quick meal and settle down to studying. She took out a saucepan and filled 
it with water. As she turned the faucet, she heard a click, and the water 
continued gushing out even after she had turned the handle off. Impatiently, 
she walked to the door and down the stairs to Mrs. Sansome's apartment. She 
knocked, but there was no reply. She went back upstairs, and as she reached 
the third floor, she saw Donald standing at her door. 

"Hi," he said, smiling broadly. "You want anything done?" 

With a sigh of relief, she nodded. "My faucet's leaking," she told him, "and 
Mrs. Sansome's out." 

"No problem," he said cheerfully. "Ted's home, and he's done plumbing work. 
I'll go get him. We'll fix it in a jiffy." 

He ran down the stairs, and Suzanne walked back into the kitchen and began 
peeling some potatoes. Within ten minutes, Donald and Ted were back, armed 
with wrenches and a washer. Ted greeted her affably, and went to work. 
Within minutes, he had stepped back triumphantly. The faucet had been fixed. 

"Thank you so much," Suzanne said. "How much do you want? A dollar?" 

She had learned that almost any chore Donald did was a dollar. Ted nodded. 

"That'll be fine," he said. 

Suzanne went to her purse, took out the money and handed it over. As he took 
the bill, he closed his hand over hers and pulled her to him quickly, 
kissing her on the lips. Suzanne jerked away, her eyes flashing. 

"Don't get mad," said Ted lazily, still holding her hand. "Nothin' wrong 
with a little kiss now, is there?" 

Suzanne disengaged herself and moved away, her heart beating unnaturally 
fast. 

"I think ... I think you'd both better leave now," she said as calmly as she 
could. "I have to get supper ready, and I have studying to do." 

Ted laughed and leaned up against the sink. 

"Maybe you'd like a change tonight," he said. "Like maybe studying something 
more interesting. 

He slid his hand down to his crotch and adjusted his genitals, bunching them 
up suggestively. Donald broke into a giggle. 

"Ted, thank you for fixing the faucet," Suzanne said, desperately trying to 
cope with the situation, which she felt was getting completely out of hand. 
"And now, if you don't mind." 

Ted walked forward, put his hand around her waist, and pulled her violently 
to him. 

"Come on, I'm a good lay. Ask Donald. He's seen me in action." 

She struggled ineffectually, conscious of a growing tension in her loins and 
a terrible fear in her heart. She heard Yvonne's words in her mind ... 
"Those two kids'll probably just as soon screw you as look at you." Then she 
felt Ted's lips on hers, and his tongue pushing into her mouth. She 
struggled, and her hips felt the pressure of his body with its suggestive 
bulge between his legs. 

She managed to break away, and she gasped out a strangled plea. "Ted, 
please, let me go!" 

His arms continued holding her, and his eyes narrowed as they glared at her. 

"I ain't lettin' you go," he drawled. "We're gonna have a little fun, just 
you, me and Donald." 

Suzanne felt the tears come splashing down her cheeks. 

"I ... I'm not that sort of girl," she stammered. 

Ted laughed loudly. 

"You mean you don't screw around? All you rich bitches from Grosse Pointe 
fuck. I know. I've had plenty of 'em. And they always come back for more, 
because I got what it takes. Here, you feel for yourself." 

He grabbed her hand and pulled it down between his legs. Her fingers touched 
the growing hardness there, and she struggled even more. 

"Donald, please help me," she begged, turning to the younger boy, and then 
her eyes widened with horror. Donald was standing, his fly open and his 
erect penis jutting forth, held in his hands which massaged it gently up and 
down. "Donald!" Her voice rose almost to a scream, and Ted's hand clamped 
over her mouth in a flash. 

"Now don't you do anything stupid like screaming," he said threateningly. 
"You got a real purty face. It wouldn't look too good all beat up now, would 
it?" 

Ted began pulling her over to the alcove with the bed. 

"Come on, baby brother, you know what to do," he said, his voice chuckling 
evilly, "Start with her skirt. I want to see that nice hairy pussy of hers." 

Suzanne couldn't believe it was happening. This was a nightmare, she knew. 
Donald was a nice boy. He wouldn't do anything like that. He couldn't. She 
stared disbelievingly as Donald came over, his penis jutting from his pants, 
a long, thick organ that she could hardly believe was possible on such a 
young boy. 

Ted held her tightly, and Donald's hands searched for the zipper on the side 
of her skirt. Her entire body was trembling. She felt him fumble, and then 
the zipper slid down, and her skirt slipped to the floor. 

"Wow, look at them legs!" 

Donald's hands grasped her underwear, and pulled down, and she felt the cool 
rush of air against her crotch. Ted bent her over backwards, and pulled her 
down on the bed, still holding one hand over her mouth. He lifted his head 
to get a better view of her naked thighs and hips. Donald was already 
kneeling between her legs, staring hard at her, while his hand caressed his 
penis. 

"Jeez, that's eatin' stuff. Go at it!" 

She felt Donald's hands come forward, run up the inside of her thighs and 
come to rest on her cunt-lips, pulling them open with a sudden movement. She 
heard him whistle, and then his head came forward and his mouth closed over 
her mound, his tongue licking her ravenously. She felt his flesh hot upon 
her own, and the tip of his tongue flicking across her clitoris. A flash of 
fire went through her loins, and she struggled. 

"She likes it, don't you, Miss Rich Bitch?" hissed Ted softly. "Well, you're 
gonna git it, so you may as well quit all this struggling. And one peep outa 
you, and I'll let you have it, right across the mouth." 

Suzanne's mind was reeling. She could not believe what was happening to her. 
Mentally she cried out for Sam, for her parents, for Yvonne, for anyone who 
might come and rescue her from this terrible predicament. These two vile 
kids were going to rape her; she knew it, and she knew she was powerless to 
prevent it. 

"Okay, you've had a taste," snapped Ted. "Now get her top off. I wanna see 
those tits." 

Donald raised up, and after a few seconds manipulating the buttons on her 
blouse, he pulled her blouse away, and then undid her bra. As her things 
fell away, her breasts lay exposed to their lecherous eyes. 

"Oh, wow, that's what I call tits!" Ted's voice was filled with admiration 
and lust. "Now you settle down, and remember, one peep, and you're gonna be 
sorry." 

He released her, and swung around, his mouth closing over her left breast. 
Donald came forward and began sucking on her right nipple, while his hand 
pushed into her crotch and his finger began playing with her wet, warm 
pussy. 

She stared down at the two young men, conscious of the waves of sensual 
desire that were flooding her body. She had never in her life experienced 
such sensations. From the fingers in her crotch to the lips on her breasts, 
electric tingles were coursing through her, and she felt the depths of her 
vagina responding, a tumultuous wave of erotic desire, and over it all an 
all-consuming fear that made her tremble from head to toe. 

Ted raised up and fumbled with his fly. A moment later, his own massive 
organ sprang into view, and Suzanne gasped audibly. It was even thicker and 
longer than Donald's, with a large, flat dark red head pushing through the 
folds of foreskin, angrily pointing at her. Ted laughed softly. 

"Told you I had what it takes," he said. "Go down and say hello to him. He 
won't bite you, but he'll sure spit in your eye if you kiss him right." 

His hand came behind her neck, and pulled her down. She felt the end of his 
penis touch her lips, and a wave of nausea wracked her. She struggled, and 
felt the warm organ slide between her lips and into her mouth. 

"Suck it, you bitch, suck it!" 

In sheer desperation, she began rubbing her tongue along the underside of 
his shaft, tasting for the first time the musky firmness of his sex and the 
sensuousness of the skin around his rod. He began humping, and she felt it 
slide in and out, ramming all the way into her throat and then out again. 

Oh, God, she thought to herself, how long does this go on? Why can't they 
leave me alone instead of making me do all these obscene things, and then... 
would they want more? 

Would they want to take her virginity? 

Suzanne tried hard not to burst into hysterical tears, but merely kept on 
sucking at th massive organ that was being pounded into her mouth with 
mounting speed and firmness. She heard Ted begin to moan, and his hands came 
around the back of her neck, holding her in position. 

"I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," he cried out, and she was conscious of his 
fingers digging into her neck while his penis seemed to flex and grow 
thicker as he rammed it into her throat, almost choking her. It seemed to 
pulsate, to throb even more as it was driven quicker and quicker in and out 
of her mouth, sliding between her lips like a fiery lollipop, almost too big 
for her to lick comfortably. Then he cried out, "Here she comes, oh, suck 
it, you cunt, suck it good. Oh, woweeeee, shoot, shoot, shoot, you big dick, 
shoot into this cunt. Give it to her, baby." And then, with a flood, he 
ejaculated into her mouth. Suzanne tasted the hot, sweet-salty semen 
spurting forth from the wide end of his rod, and automatically she gulped 
and swallowed the thick, warm fluid that kept on coming, load after load, 
while his hands held her head and his fingernails sank into her skin. 
Vaguely she heard Donald's excited giggling mingled with Ted's orgasmic 
groans of pleasure. 

Then, mercifully, it was over. She felt his penis soften and slowly 
withdraw. His hands released her head, and he lifted himself off and sat 
down on the bed, still breathing heavily, and grinning at her. 

"For a rich bitch, you do pretty good," he said grudgingly. "That sure felt 
good. Okay, baby brother, your turn." 

Suzanne's eyes opened wide again as she stared at Donald, his penis still 
projecting menacingly from his pants. 

"Go on, suck him off, too, you cunt," snapped Ted. "He wants a little." 

Before she could voice her protests, Donald had straddled her chest and 
pushed his penis towards her mouth. Again she felt the firmness of male 
flesh in her mouth, and she began sucking. Donald began groaning 
immediately, and moving his hips, thrusting his firm organ rapidly in and 
out of her. She realized he was not as large as his brother, for which she 
was thankful. At least it was easier to cope with, and subconsciously she 
knew he was almost at the peak of excitement. She brought her hands up and 
began fondling his testicles, pulling on them gently, her fingernails 
trailing through his pubic hair. 

"Oh, oh, oh," he moaned. "Jeez, that's good. Oh, take it, take it all." 

Then with a convulsive shudder, she felt him push his organ deep into her 
throat and hold it there as it throbbed and flexed, shooting his seed into 
her while she gulped and swallowed. 

He went soft almost at once, and withdrew, climbing off her and lying down 
on the bed, panting, and saying how wonderful it had been. She heard Ted 
laugh softly, and then his hand was in her crotch, his fingers probing 
greedily into her dripping canal. 

"Okay, bitch, you ready for some real action now?" 

She stared at him wordlessly; she felt defiled, degraded, with her mouth 
still tasting of the hot come and her body aching from the effort and the 
weight of their bodies on her. She looked down and saw that Ted's penis was 
hard once again, its slick surface gleaming from the saliva that still clung 
to it. He had pulled the foreskin all the way back, exposing the wide, red 
head which shone angrily like a cobra ready to strike. 

"Spread your legs, baby, poppa's coming in for a landing!" 

Ted crawled over, and just as he positioned himself between her thighs, 
Suzanne became suddenly galvanized into action. She raised up from the bed, 
trying desperately to scramble away. 

"Oh, no, you don't," snapped Ted, pushing her back. "You grab her, Donald. 
Hold this bitch while I fuck her." 

Donald quickly tied her ankles to the bedpost, using her stockings, then 
moved above her head, his knees pinning her shoulders to the bed and his 
hands holding her head. 

"Please ... please ... not that, please not that. I've never done that 
before. Oh, please, Ted ... Donald... I'll do anything, but not that." 

They both stared at her, their faces disbelieving. 

"Whaddya mean, you ain't done that before?" rasped Ted, his face sneering 
down at her. "You ain't cherry, is you?" 

She nodded. "Yes, yes. I've never done that with anyone." 

Ted looked at Donald, and they both burst into loud contemptuous laughter. 

"Now I've heard it all," said Ted. "This bitch comes from Grosse Pointe and 
she says she's cherry. Shit, baby, the chicks I know from Grosse Pointe 
start fucking when they're six or seven. Don't hand me that shit." 

He leaned forward, lowering his erect penis between her legs and sliding it 
slowly up towards her vagina. Suzanne felt the tears start again, and she 
sobbed uncontrollably. Across her mind flashed an image of Sam, lying next 
to her, and she knew it could never happen; she would never go to her 
wedding night a pure virgin. It was happening now, and with someone who was 
coarse, rough, and didn't care for her at all as a person; to him she was 
just a sex object. There was no love involved, and to her sex without love 
was meaningless. Oh, Sam, Sam ... 

She felt the end of his penis push aside her vulva, and penetrate. She felt 
the wide, slick surface brush against her clitoris, and she cried out, her 
body convulsing with the rising tide of her own sexual response. Then she 
felt a sharp pain, and he stopped thrusting, pausing a moment; then with a 
vicious jab, he broke through and his entire length slid into her. The 
exquisite feel of his enormous organ within her vagina overcame the pain she 
felt, and as he began moving his hips, withdrawing, then plunging back in 
again, she found her own body joining his in a smooth rhythm. Ted moaned, 
and she heard him speak. 

"Oh, yes, baby, yes. She's gettin' with it, Donald, she's gettin' with it." 

Donald was kneeling on the floor, his head level with the bed, his eyes 
glued on the sight of his brother's penis entering her dripping crack, 
ramming home so hard that his balls slapped against her bare buttocks every 
time. 

Suzanne found her arms going around Ted's back, clawing at his shirt, 
digging into his flesh beneath. Her breath became deeper and louder; she 
realized she was no longer crying, but moaning with sublime ecstasy. The 
moment she had waited so long for had finally happened, and it was better 
than she had dreamed it would be; more wonderful than her wildest 
imagination had told her; more stimulating than her momentary masturbation 
had ever been. She finally had a big cock in her, and she was riding it, 
taking it all the way up to the hilt, and feeling it probe her depths. 
Despite her feeling of degradation, she wanted to scream to the rooftops: 
"Look, I'm fucking. At last, I'm fucking!" She wanted her mother to walk in 
at that second so she could cry out, "Look, mother, I'm doing it and it's 
wonderful. He's got the biggest dick in the world and I'm getting fucked by 
it!" 

She moved her hips faster and faster to match his growing excitement, and 
then she heard him grunt and ram his rod deep into her and hold it there. 
His body shuddered and she felt the warm rush of his come within her, 
discharging into her and running down between her legs. Then her own insides 
convulsed, and she cried out as she felt wave after wave of supreme delight 
wash through her, and she felt herself being lifted, like she was floating 
on clouds, drifting high above the bed, suspended on the end of his 
magnificent cock that was buried deep inside her. 

"You're a good fuck, baby, I'll say that." 

His words brought her back to earth with a rush, and she felt him roll off 
her, his penis withdrawing from her. He knelt between her fettered legs, and 
stared down at her. 

"Jesus, you really were cherry!" 

Ted's eyes widened as he saw the telltale bloodstains on the bed and the 
smears around her pubic area. He frowned down at her, and fumblingly untied 
her. 

"How come? How come you wuz cherry?" 

"Because I was, that's why," Suzanne replied, her voice quavering with the 
sudden return to reality and the horror she felt within her. "I told you ... 
I told you ..." And then the tears cascaded down her cheeks, and she rolled 
over on her stomach, sobbing loudly and almost out of control. 

She felt the bed move as Ted got up, and there was the rustle of clothing as 
he and Donald zipped themselves up. 

"Hey." 

She heard his voice, but she remained face down. Then she felt his hand on 
her shoulder, pulling her over. His face glowered down at her. 

"We're gettin' out of here, but you'd better not say anything about what's 
happened, you hear?" 

She stared mutely up at him, biting her lips. 

"One word out of you, and I'll call your ma and pa up and tell them you've 
been putting out. You understand? .So you keep your goddamn mouth shut." 

He straightened up, and she looked dumbly at him and Donald as they moved 
towards the door. They paused and looked back at her. Ted grinned evilly. 

"You're a good lay," he said grudgingly. "Good enough for a second helping. 
So maybe we'll be back." 

He opened the door and they left, slamming the door behind them. As their 
footsteps clattered down the stairs, Suzanne rolled over and buried her face 
in the pillow and her body shook with sobs. Slowly she subsided, and was 
conscious of the chill on her skin. Slowly she eased off the bed and walked 
into the bathroom. For a moment, she stared at herself in the mirror, at the 
swollen lips, her red-rimmed eyes, the finger marks on her breasts, and the 
red smears around her vagina. 

Almost mechanically, she reached for the faucets and let the hot, steaming 
water run into the tub, and after adjusting the temperature, she slowly 
lowered her aching body into the warm depths. She stretched out and closed 
her eyes. Oh, God, she thought, I pray I don't get pregnant. Please, God, 
don't let me be pregnant. 

In the dim recesses of her mind, she heard the voice of her sociology 
instructor: "Lotsa luck!" 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Slowly Suzanne opened her eyes and gazed around her bedroom. She stretched 
her arms above her head and yawned. The early morning light filtered through 
the blinds, casting a soft glow around her. For a split second she began to 
smile, looking forward to another day; then the memory of the experiences 
with Donald and Ted came flooding back, swamping out the happy anticipation 
and replacing it with a tide of renewed horror. 

With great care, she lowered her hands to her crotch and felt her mound, 
probing inside with her fingers where the still-tender folds of flesh told 
her it had not been a dream. Her finger touched her clitoris, and a hot sea 
of sensuality swept over her, reminding her of Ted's penis as it penetrated 
her. She touched her clitoris again, and once more the feeling gushed 
through her loins. She really wasn't hurt, she told herself. 

With a sigh, she relaxed, letting her fingers coax her sexuality into a 
rising wave of ecstasy. Slowly she gripped the shaft of her clitoris, 
massaging the end with her fingers while her passions rose, and she began 
moving her hips slowly, her mind filled with the memory of Ted's swollen 
organ plunging in and out of her vagina. 

With her other hand she caressed her stomach, sliding up to her breasts and 
tweaking the nipples gently, bringing them to a state of erection, their 
hard little nubs so sensitive as her fingers brushed over them. She drew 
saliva from her mouth and rubbed around her nipples, making them slick and 
reminding her of the hungry mouth that had enclosed them and the ravenous 
tongue that flicked back and forth, exciting her beyond words. 

In her mind she recalled the heavy breathing, the excited hiss of his words 
as he muttered obscene comments on their union, and with each "Fuck me, fuck 
me," she found her loins quivering with additional eroticism as her finger 
rubbed quicker and quicker around her clitoris. Her hips were moving faster 
now up and down, just the way they had when she finally began getting with 
it and knew that Ted's massive phallus was the first thing that had really 
brought her knowledge of true satisfaction, a mind-blasting experience that 
shattered all her previous ideas of ultimate ecstasy. Yes, she thought, it 
is good, this is what I've always wanted; I've wanted to be taken, to be 
ravished, to feel a man on top of me, doing whatever he wanted with my body, 
giving himself all the sensations he could get from her hot, snapping cunt 
that clung greedily around that magnificent shaft as it slid into her, 
fitting so perfectly all the way into her vagina, its flat, wide head 
titillating the opening of her womb. 

Her fingers pinched harder at her nipples, and her fingers pushed deeper 
into her canal, and in her mind it was Ted's organ there, propelling her 
faster and faster towards her own climax. She felt her insides begin to 
convulse, and her body was no longer heaving but trembling, shaking from 
head to toe, and she stifled the urge to scream out at the top of her voice, 
"Fuck me, you big-cocked stud, give it all to me, every goddamn inch of that 
big thick wonderful thing, jam it right up my cunt as far as you can and 
shoot your jism into me!" 

She saw Ted's face above hers, and heard once more the giggling of his 
brother, his face glued between her legs, watching every movement while his 
hand manipulated his own throbbing cock. She could almost swear she could 
smell his earthy, male odor around her, filling her nostrils with extra 
stimulation. Then she felt her vagina quiver with its final orgasm, and her 
finger seized her clitoris as her other hand squeezed her breast and she 
felt her juices flowing and she cried out softly, moaning and twisting on 
the bed as she felt herself being lifted 'high up on a cloud of heavenly 
ecstasy. Then, just as she felt she had reached the peak of her climax, she 
heard a voice, "Suzanne ... please ... please ..." and in her mind she saw 
the outline of a penis in the dim moonlight, and it was Sam's, voice ringing 
in her brain. Her mouth opened and she screamed out, "Sam ... Sam ..." Then 
all images disappeared from her imagination, and she opened her eyes to see 
the sun streaming through the Venetian blinds, striping the carpet with a 
bright glare. She withdrew her hand from beneath the sheet and stared at her 
fingers, still slick with the juices from her vagina. With a shudder she 
threw back the covers and walked quickly to the bathroom, turning on the 
shower and stepping into the stinging spray even before it had warmed up. 
She closed her eyes and stood, her skin flinching beneath the chilly stream, 
and only opened her eyes again as the warm water began. In the distance she 
heard the clatter of heels on the stairs, and from below on the street the 
scream of tires mingled with the blast from a car horn. As she stepped out 
of the shower and began toweling herself, she bit her lip arid once again 
pictured Sam's face before her. "Oh, Sam," she whispered, "Where are you, 
where are you?" 

Suzanne found it difficult to concentrate on her classes that day. 
Mechanically she went through the motions of greeting her friends, of taking 
notes, of listening to her instructors, and eating a steerburger and a Coke 
at Verne's for lunch. Yvonne was in the bar, playing pool with Jeff, a young 
medical student whose youth and virile appeal had given him quite a 
reputation around town as being a ladies' man. Suzanne watched them both as 
they pranced around the pool table, Jeff exhibiting a boyish enthusiasm for 
his prowess and Yvonne doing her best Bette Davis impersonation as she 
studied each shot before lowering her practiced eye to the pool cue and sent 
the ball lazily across the green felt. Suzanne watched, thinking how their 
way of playing matched their personalities. Jeff took a few seconds to 
decide, then shot fast and hard, and usually made the pocket he aimed for; 
he probably picked his sleeping partners the same way, Suzanne thought. 
Yvonne took her time, considered all the angles, and then played slow and 
safe, her ball usually trickling across the table and dropping in the pocket 
almost as its momentum ran out. 

But then Yvonne was probably quite a bit older than Jeff; or would it be 
better to say Jeff was quite a bit younger than Yvonne? What difference did 
it make? It's not the age of your men, Yvonne had said once, but how well 
they can age you. Suzanne wondered how many years Jeff had put on Yvonne 
since they had met. She knew they had been going together, at least that's 
what the campus gossip had said. But then Jeff went with just about anyone; 
rumor had it he had donated his penis to the Smithsonian Institute upon his 
death to be enshrined as a national monument. After all, there were still 
quite a number who hadn't seen it, let alone had the pleasure of its 
company. Penis ... cock ... Suzanne shook her head and tried to finish her 
steerburger, but found herself chewing without enjoyment; tasting without 
taste. She pushed the plate away in disgust, staring at the meat between the 
bun and again remembering another piece of meat she had chewed on, a hard, 
throbbing member with a broad flat head, and again Ted's obscene words rang 
in her ears. 

Yvonne's husky guffaw echoed through the bar, and Jeff threw the pool cue on 
the floor. His explosive "Shit!" caused several customers to turn, look and 
grin. The regulars at Verne's were well used to Yvonne's prowess at the pool 
table; her feigned concentration and naive approach concealed a pool shark 
from 'way back. She picked up her glass of beer and sashayed up to Suzanne. 

"Well, darling, did you see, did you see?" she gloated, and then as Jeff 
walked up behind her, his handsome face frowning, she added, "You're really 
not mad at me, are you, baby?" 

Jeff grinned at Suzanne, and slumped into a chair, sucking his teeth. "Mad? 
At you?" He grunted, and winked at Suzanne. "It'll take more than a pool 
game to get me mad." 

Yvonne laughed loudly again, drained her glass, and rummaged in her 
oversized purse for a cigarette. 

"Well, you two be good," she said. "I have to run. See you later." 

Suzanne sat, toying with her glass of Coke, conscious that Jeff's eyes were 
fastened on her. Finally she looked at him almost defiantly. 

"Well?" 

"Well, what?" he countered. 

"I know you've been staring at me." "Sure. I always stare at groovy chicks." 
Suzanne flushed. 

"I am not a groovy chick," she snapped, sorry for her words the moment she 
uttered them; she knew she sounded pompous and puritanical. 

Jeff laughed and stood up. 

"You said it," he murmured, and wandered off back into the pool table area 
of the bar. 

Suzanne bit her lip and wanted to burst into tears. She knew how idiotic she 
must have sounded; but she couldn't help it. She was conscious of his 
sexuality across the table; she was aware of his reputation, and something 
in her responded. She knew that she wanted him, she wanted to find out if 
those rumors about his penis size were true, she wanted him to fuck her. 
Fuck ... fuck ... yes, she wanted that.. She wanted him to.... 

With a toss of her head, she rose and made her way quickly out of the bar, 
knowing that if she stayed she might either burst into tears or spend the 
afternoon, get drunk and go home with Jeff and ... 

Her mind was a mixture of frustration and self-loathing as she walked up 
Woodward Avenue and turned down Forest Avenue to the campus, suddenly 
realizing that unless she hurried she would be late for her sociology class. 
Damn. What was wrong with her today? She knew what was wrong, and the slight 
tenderness in her crotch reminded her with every step she took. Oh, God, 
what if those little bastards came back? 

She sat through class hardly hearing a word, her mind filled with the memory 
of the night before. Ted's words again rang in her ears: "You're a good lay. 
Good enough for a second helping." Did he mean that, or was he just trying 
to scare her? She finally decided he was only trying to frighten her enough 
to keep her mouth shut; obviously they wouldn't be back. It had been one of 
those rare opportunities, and even they would realize that she wouldn't even 
open the door to them again. So it was just an experience; and even though 
her ravenous mounting sexuality kept hinting that it had been wonderful, 
that she had felt it was something she would want again and again, she 
deeply regretted that it hadn't been Sam who had been the first. She had 
always wanted to go to her marriage bed a virgin; now it was impossible. 
She'd have to make up some story for Sam; maybe she could tell him she'd 
done a lot of horseback riding and broken her hymen that way. Or maybe at 
gym class, or riding a bicycle. No, he'd never believe that. Or would he? 
She knew Sam loved her; at least, she felt he did. Oh, please, let him love 
me. I need him so much. Sam ... Sam ... 

"Suzanne, is something wrong?" 

She looked up to see her instructor standing next to her, a look of concern 
on his kindly face. She started, and then realized the class was empty, and 
she had been sitting there, tears streaming down her face, unaware that the 
others had left. Embarrassedly she wiped her cheeks, tried to smile, and 
stumbled to her feet. 

"No, no, nothing," she said quietly. "I'm all right. Honest. I was just ..." 
She paused, and then fled from the room. 

She hurried back to the apartment, and climbed the stairs with her pulse 
racing. She knew Donald and Ted would be waiting outside her door; she knew 
it. She stared as she turned the top of the stairs and saw the empty 
hallway. With a sigh of relief, she unlocked the door, entered, and locked 
it behind her; then she collapsed into a chair and sobbed for ten minutes. 

She finally composed herself, went to the bathroom and washed her face. She 
stared at herself in the mirror and tried to smile. She was being 
ridiculous, she knew; nothing could change what had happened, and she was 
just thankful that she had not suffered any grievous harm. She remembered 
reading of rape cases where the woman was beaten, her face scarred and her 
body slashed; at least all they did was have their way sexually, and looking 
back, she knew it hadn't been as bad as she had thought at the time. She 
knew she had enjoyed it, really and truly enjoyed the act; but then she knew 
that was only normal. After all, what girl wouldn't enjoy having intercourse 
with a young man as well endowed as Ted? Any young man, for that matter. 

She patted her face dry, put on some lipstick, combed her hair, and decided 
that she was feeling much better. She went into the living room, got out her 
notes, and began studying. 

She had her writings about the family she had been studying, Donald's 
family, Ted's family; oh, God, how could she possibly continue on that 
subject? Every time she thought about it, she would remember. Maybe the best 
thing would be to destroy that project and start another. There were plenty 
of families in the area that she could investigate without being plagued 
with unpleasant memories. 

She was just about to rip the pages into pieces and put them in the 
wastebasket when she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and her 
heart jumped. She knew those footsteps; they had the youthful ring of a 
young boy, and she knew it could only be Donald. Petrified, she froze at the 
desk, waiting. 

The footsteps grew louder, and then stopped outside her door. A second 
later, the gentle knock sounded like a thunderclap to her ears. She dropped 
her pencil and whirled around in her chair, facing the door. Her heart was 
beating unnaturally loud, and her hands began to tremble. She knew if she 
remained quiet, he would probably go away; but what if he had been watching 
the building and had seen her come in? What if he knew she was there? He 
might continue banging on her door and there might be a scene, and he might 
say something which ... Oh, God. 

"Who is it?" Her voice was nervous and quavering. 

There was a second of silence, and then she heard Donald's voice. 

"It's me, Donald. I want to talk to you." "Go away." 

"Please, Suzanne. I have to talk to you. It's important." 

What on earth could there be so important to this boy? She knew it was a 
trick to get her to open the door. 

"Donald, you go away and leave me alone or I'll call the police." 

She heard him laugh softly. 

"You wouldn't do that; you know that. Come on, I mean it, Suzanne. I got 
something to tell you." 

She rose from the desk and walked over to the door, pausing a moment, her 
handle on the knob. She could hear his heavy breathing on the other side. 

"What is it? You can tell me from there." 

"No, I want to come in and talk to you. I want to tell you how sorry I am 
about what happened." 

There was a note of contrition in his voice, and she pictured his fresh, 
youthful face, his large innocent eyes. Maybe he did want to talk; maybe he 
was sorry. 

"All right, Donald, but if there's any trouble, I'm going to call the 
police. I mean it." 

There was a click as she unlocked the door, turned the handle and pulled. 
Donald was standing outside, and as their eyes met, she saw that he must be 
sorry; there was an expression of abject sorrow on his young face. 

"Come in." 

Slowly he walked in; she shut the door, and stood, staring at him, somewhat 
defiantly. He shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly, and grinned at 
her. 

"Well, what do you want to talk about, Donald?" 

He moved over to the couch and looked at her. 

"You mind if I sit down?" 

She shook her head and walked over to the large chair and slowly sat down, 
staring at him curiously. 

"I want to say I'm sorry about yesterday," Donald began, looking down at the 
floor, and playing with his hands. "It was Ted, you know that, don't you? 
He's a real horny one, and once he gets going, nothing stops him." 

Suzanne sniffed. "Obviously you've been with him before when he's ..." She 
paused, not wanting to say the words. 

He nodded. "Sure. We've screwed girls together before, but he always starts 
it. He's been around longer'n I have, and I really don't think about it as 
much as he does. He told me that's all he likes to do: fuck girls. I guess 
he does it every day." 

"And what about you?" 

Donald grinned. "I do it now and then, when I can." 

"When you can," Suzanne repeated the words, her voice dripping sarcasm. "Why 
don't you admit you screw around just as much as your brother? I've heard 
stories, and I think they're true. All you kids in this neighborhood do is 
screw. No wonder there're so many little bastards running around." 

She amazed herself at the venom in her voice. But she felt if she showed him 
she was still angry, he might not try anything; or did she really want him 
to try something again? 

Donald looked up at her and smiled. 

"I know you're mad, and I don't blame you. But I did want you to know I 
still like you a lot, and I'm sorry. Can we still be friends? Can I still 
come up and help you sometimes?" 

Suzanne's eyes widened. 

"Still be friends? What do you mean? You're goddamn lucky I haven't called 
the police and had you and you brother thrown in jail. No, Donald, I think 
you'd better leave now, and don't bother to come back." 

Donald's eyebrows rose slightly, and his mouth curled into a sneer. 

"Don't be that way, Suzanne. I said I was sorry." 

"Well, saying you're sorry doesn't help any. And I know if you keep coming 
around, maybe your brother will, too, and then ..." Suzanne's words trailed 
off, and she became conscious of Donald's gaze, shifting from her face down 
to her breasts and over her body. She could sense the aura of desire in his 
manner, and she recognized the look on his face. "Donald, I mean it. I want 
you to go now." 

His eyes came back and fastened on hers, very steadily. It was a most mature 
look for a young boy, and a very knowing look. 

"You don't want me to go, you know that, Suzanne. And I don't want to. I 
want to stay here with you." He rose quickly and came across, kneeling in 
front of her, and staring up at her earnestly. "Please, Suzanne, I like you 
a lot, I really do. I don't want you to think I'm real bad or anything." He 
put out his hand and touched hers. 

Suzanne felt a prickly of apprehension, but at the same time she felt a 
demanding warmth flood her groin. The boy's closeness, his sexuality, his 
earnestness, all combined to arouse her and bring back the memory of the day 
before, not with shame or fear, but with perverse desire. She remembered his 
penis, jutting out from his pants, almost as large as his brother's. 

"Donald." Her voice was weak, and she began trembling. "Donald, please go. 
Now." 

His hand gripped hers more strongly, and his other hand came up on her knee. 

"Suzanne, I don't want to go. Please let me stay here." 

With a sudden movement, he raised up, brought his head forward, and kissed 
her on the lips before she could move away. The softness of his skin against 
hers, his male animal smell, his forceful approach, all this and much more 
swept the final vestige of resistance away. She didn't have to say anything; 
the boy knew. 

Still on his knees, he put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to 
him, embracing her and kissing her passionately, his tongue forcing itself 
between her lips. She felt the sensuous warmth of his chest against her 
breasts and his hands gripping her tightly. His mouth rubbed back and forth 
over her own, and she felt her passions rising to fever pitch. Desperately, 
she broke away. 

"No, Donald, no. This is ridiculous." 

He looked at her for a moment, his mouth quivering. 

"Ridiculous? Ain't nothin' ridiculous about me wanting you. I want some of 
the same stuff Ted got yesterday." His eyes flamed, and he bent his head 
down to hers, forcing his mouth against her lips and pushing her head back 
violently while his hands held her tightly. Suzanne felt a wave of nausea 
rise, to be quickly replaced by her bubbling desire, the slow surge of 
wetness in her vagina and the trembling in her loins. Oh, God, it was going 
to happen again; she mustn't let it. She mustn't. But stronger than that, 
her sexuality screamed out: Yes, yes, I want it, I want this boy with his 
strong, pulsating cock pushed right up into me. I want it. 

Desperately she beat on his back with her fists, and then realized how 
strong he was. His muscular arms held her firmly, and his chest was pushing 
against her breasts, rubbing her nipples into hardness. Finally he released 
her and stared into her eyes with a mixture of warmth and defiance. 

"Okay, who's kidding who?" he said softly, taking her hand and pulling it 
down to his crotch where his rising hardness told her he was almost ready; 
and within her heart, she knew she was never more ready. 

His fingers caressed her breast, and she sat immobile, hardly believing what 
was happening, and numbly aware that her own desires were screaming out for 
the same thing he was after. 

"You gonna get undressed so we can do it proper?" 

The impact of his words brought her plummeting back to reality. She stared 
at him for a second, and then quickly pushed him backwards and rose to her 
feet, making a rush for the front door. Her hand was on the handle when she 
felt his fingers close around her ankle and jerk her backwards viciously. 
She tripped and fell, breaking her fall with her arm. A stab of pain shot 
through her, and she whimpered. 

He was on top of her in a flash, and his weight pinned her down. His mouth 
began biting her neck and her ears while his hips ground his hardening sex 
into her. Through their clothes she could feel its demanding pressure 
against her vulva. 

"Donald, please, please, oh, God, no, not again." 

He laughed softly and then rolled off her, staring into her eyes with an 
expression which she took to be a marginal glimmer of tenderness. 

"You know you want it, baby, just like I do. Quit horsing around. We don't 
have time for all that shit." 

"What do you mean, we don't have time?" 

There was something in his tone that made her instantly suspicious. 

"We don't have time. I have to get home." 

"Well, go, then. Go now, and leave me alone." 

His hand shot out and slid up the inside of her thigh, and his fingers poked 
through her underwear into her canal. Electric tingles suffused her body, 
and she shuddered. 

The next moment, his hands had seized her panties, and with a strong tug he 
had pulled them down from her waist, and she felt the air fan against her 
naked crotch. His other hand fumbled with his fly, and the noise of his 
zipper sounded like trumpets of doom. As if in a nightmare, Suzanne watched 
as his sex sprang out of his pants, thick, throbbing and ready for action. 

"Okay, baby, spread those legs. I'm coming in." 

His weight pinned her to the floor, and she gasped as his chest pressed hard 
against her breasts, and she felt the warm rod of his organ push between her 
legs, sliding up towards its goal. 

Her arms tried to beat against him, but the rising strength of her own 
desires sapped her energy. Helplessly she relaxed as she felt the end of his 
penis touch her, penetrate and then slide all the way into her vagina. He 
sucked his breath in and moaned. 

"Oooh, good pussy," he said softly. "Now start gettin' with it, bitch. 
You're gonna fuck." 

He began moving his hips, driving his organ in and out of her violently, and 
with each thrust she felt her clitoris tingle and her loins respond. Almost 
automatically she began undulating her hips, gripping his shaft as it 
entered her, feeling its thickness send chills of delight all the way 
through her body. As his broad head hit bottom, she felt it at the opening 
to her womb. He fit absolutely perfectly; they blended their bodies and 
everything was right. 

Yes, yes, Suzanne heard herself crying out, yes, give it to me; give me all 
you've got, you wonderful sexy boy. Fuck me. Fuck me. 

Her hands clawed at his back, tearing at his thin shirt and leaving trails 
across his white skin. His mouth was chewing at her neck, his tongue licking 
across her, sending more erotic thrills through her. Hardly conscious of 
what she was doing, she undid her blouse and pulled her bra down, letting 
her breasts flop out. 

"Suck them, suck them," she moaned. "Bite them." 

Donald needed no urging. His rough sexuality guided him. His teeth closed 
around the end of one nipple, biting, and Suzanne felt the stab of pain 
blended with exquisite pleasure. 

"More, more," she cried out, and she heard a suppressed giggle from him as 
he responded. Vaguely she heard the tearing of cloth, and then looked down 
to see that his hands had ripped off her blouse, her bra, her skirt. The 
thin material had given way beneath his muscular arms, and she was lying 
naked under him, her breasts flopping from side to side with each movement 
of her body, and her crotch pinned by his penis, thrusting in and out with 
sublime regularity. She stared down. He had raised himself up on his arms, 
and was looking at his penis as it entered and withdrew. It was a beautiful 
organ, she thought; not as thick as Ted's, but prettier. It was smooth and 
white, without any veins, just a solid shaft that was slick and erotic 
looking, sliding in and out of her oozing, slippery cunt. For a split 
second, she realized that she had more hair in her bush than he had around 
his organ. Oh, the infinite appeal of that young, lithe body with its large 
cock fucking her! 

"More, more," she cried out, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his 
waist, allowing him deeper penetration. His forehead was beaded with sweat, 
and she noticed his male musky odor had grown stronger. She made a passing 
mental note to record in her research that the poorer classes do not use 
deodorants. So much the better, she thought evilly; that smell excited her 
to an even greater degree. She felt she was being ravished by some animal, a 
primitive male, without regard for anything but the sex. 

"Fuck, fuck," she whispered, almost to herself, and Donald grunted in 
response as he continued sucking and chewing on her breasts, his body once 
more lying atop her own, their hips moving together in sensuous rhythm, each 
gaining the most from the act. 

Suzanne felt her vagina tingling, heating up; she felt hotter than she had 
ever felt before, and deep within her she felt the rise of her final massive 
convulsion that told her she was about to experience her first climax. Her 
hands clawed his back with greater intensity, and she began moaning loudly. 

Then with a flash of light in her eyes she tightened around his shaft, 
gripping it within her. He groaned and wriggled, and then she felt his prick 
expand, and within the warm rush of his seed blended with her own juices. 

"Jeez, I'm there, I'm there," he cried out. 

"Come, come." 

Her body seemed to lift off the floor; she was no longer aware of the hard 
surface that had been rubbing against her back. She was no longer conscious 
of where she was, what was happening. She only knew the consummate ecstasy 
that spread through every part of her body, her own orgasm blending with 
that of the boy whose hard spurting prick inside her was giving him the same 
ultimate thrill that she experienced. Slowly their bodies subsided, and they 
lay together on the floor. Donald's hands were stroking her hair, and she 
could feel his cock slowly getting soft and slipping out of her. She stared 
at him, and he smiled at her warmly. 

"That was the best I've ever had," he murmured, all the roughness, violence 
and antagonism gone from his voice. He sounded like a small boy who had just 
been given some candy. 

Suzanne rolled over on her stomach and slowly got to her feet, her torn 
clothes hanging down forlornly. With an impatient gesture, she pulled them 
off and stood naked. Donald's eyes ran over her appreciatively. 

"You've got a groovy body," he commented. 

"Thanks," she said briefly, and walked into the bathroom, reaching behind 
the door for her robe. She saw her reflection in the mirror and paused a 
moment; then she realized she wanted to urinate, and closed the door and sat 
down on the commode. A few minutes later, she flushed the toilet, tied the 
robe around her and opened the bathroom door. 

"Donald..." she began, and then her blood froze as she saw Donald sitting in 
the chair, and opposite him on the couch, Ted, grinning from ear to ear, 
sitting beside a young Negro boy. 

"Well, well, looks like you're all ready for action," said Ted. "Come here, 
Suzanne, I want you to meet a friend of mine. Clayton, say hello to the best 
goddamn lay in town." 

The Negro youth grinned, revealing a set of beautiful teeth. 

"Hi," he said, his voice deep and rich, sounding more like a mature man than 
the eighteen-year-old he obviously was. 

Suzanne stared at Donald, and her eyes were icy. 

"Donald..." she began, but he cut her short. 

"I didn't know they were coming, Suzanne, honest," he said, and she knew he 
wasn't lying. 

"What's the difference? We're here," said Ted, rising and walking towards 
her. She took a step back into the bathroom and slammed the door, but not 
quick enough. Ted's foot shot out and he pushed the door back, grabbing 
Suzanne's arm, pulling her out into the living room. Her robe gaped open, 
and Clayton gave a low whistle. 

"Now that's what I call eatin' stuff," he muttered. "Come over here, baby." 

Ted pushed her forward, and she whirled on him. 

"If you don't leave right now, I'm going to scream," she said, her voice 
rising shakily. 

"You know you won't," said Ted lazily. "What's it gonna look like with three 
of us up here? And if the cops come, I'll say you asked us-up for a blowjob 
at a buck apiece." 

Suzanne laughed contemptuously. "Try it," she said defiantly. "Any cop'd 
know I wouldn't ask a colored boy up to my apartment." 

Clayton's face broke into a knowing grin. 

"Well, well, we got a Grosse Pointe bigot here," he drawled. "Whatsamatter 
with colored folk? You afraid it'll rub off? It does, I promise you. You'll 
be just as clean afterwards as before, but maybe not so pure." 

He laughed coarsely and bounded across the room, seizing her by the arm and 
pulling her body to his. She only realized then how tall he was, and how 
powerful. His arms closed around her, and she felt his wide, thick lips 
close around her mouth, and her stomach heaved. She was conscious of his 
odor, the same masculine smell that she found stimulating on Ted and Donald, 
but more intense, more musky. Her head reeled, and she struggled 
ineffectually. His hands tore at her robe, and she felt it slip off her 
shoulder and then fall away. His lips slipped down to her shoulder and 
licked her passionately, while his hands searched for her breasts and clung. 
She whimpered and thought she was going to faint. That was it! Her mind 
suddenly grasped at straws. If she fainted, they'd probably get scared and 
leave. 

Suzanne let her body go limp, a dead weight, and she felt his frame stiffen 
as his arms held her. She kept her eyes closed and remained silent. 

"The chick's passed out," said Clayton, lowering her to the floor and 
letting her body collapse full length at his feet. 

Ted laughed. "No matter," he said. "She's still got that cunt. Let's take 
her in turns. Hey..." He laughed again, more loudly. "Even better. You fu k 
her in front, and I'll cornhole her a' the same time. Real freaky." 

"Crazy, man," said Clayton. "Come on, let's get with it." 

She heard Donald's voice. 

"Hey, no, man, that ain't right..." he began, and Ted's voice cut through 
the air like a pistol shot. 

"Shut up!" 

"I won't," said Donald. "She's a groovy girl, and that's no fair. Wait till 
she can fuck us proper. It ain't no fun fucking if she isn't with it." 

Clayton chuckled and began undressing. 

"She'll get with it once she feels my meat," he said. "You know I got the 
biggest meat in town." 

Suzanne opened her eyes and stared terrified at the young men. Clayton had 
his shirt off and was just lowering his trousers. Ted's pants were off, and 
he was taking off his shirt. His sex was half-hard and swinging between his 
legs. 

"Ah, she's gettin' with it," said Clayton. "I guess she was playin' possum." 

"Oh, no," Suzanne breathed. "Please. Donald..." She looked at Donald, who 
was in the process of undressing. "Donald ... help me." 

"Help you," laughed Ted. "He's gonna fuck you. Or have you fucked her 
already?" 

"I ... we did it once," Donald mumbled, and Suzanne knew that he was not 
altogether agreeing with his brother's attitude. "But take it easy with her. 
She's a nice girl." 

Clayton's clothes were completely off, and he stood over Suzanne, waving his 
penis at her. 

"Sure she's a nice girl, and all nice girls want some black cock up their 
pussy," he said. "Ever see one this big, little Miss Grosse Pointe?" 

She stared fascinated at the organ, which slowly began rising to its full 
height. She knew that Ted's penis was big, but Clayton's exceeded his by at 
least two inches, and it was much thicker. She could hardly believe it, 
watching the dark brown shaft throb and expand in the colored boy's hand as 
he manipulated the foreskin up and down, exposing the dark purplish head, 
already sticky with lube that oozed from the large slit across the end. It 
was a frightening sight, and her eyes remained on his crotch, almost unable 
to believe what they saw. 

"Please, please," she sobbed, and Clayton's laugh echoed round the room. 

"She's pleading for it," he said. "Though mebbe that's not what she's really 
cryin' about." 

He dropped to his knees, pulled her legs apart roughly, and crawled forward, 
lowering his penis until the end of it was touching her stomach, just above 
her bush. With his hand, he moved the shaft back and forth across her skin, 
leaving a wet trail of lube behind it. 

"That feel good?" asked Clayton, chuckling evilly. 

Suzanne looked over at Ted and Donald, who were standing, watching, and 
playing with their penises at the same time. Ted saw her and moved forward, 
dropping to his knees above her head, and lowering his prick towards her 
mouth. 

"Suck, bitch, suck it good," he commanded, and she felt the end of it on her 
lips. Stubbornly she kept her mouth shut, and then she felt the sharp sting 
of his hand as it descended on her cheek. "I said, suck it, goddamn," he 
swore, and she opened her mouth and he pushed his prick into her. Again she 
tasted his flesh, hot and throbbing, and she closed her lips around the 
head, sucking hard, and flicking her tongue across the end, pushing into the 
slit and tasting the lube. "That's more like it," said Ted, easing himself 
into a better position to thrust his organ in and out of her mouth. 

Clayton had continued rubbing his prick across her skin, all around her 
vaginal opening, down the inside of her thighs, and she felt her responses 
quickening, despite her terrible fear of him and the size of his penis. Her 
vagina began oozing its juices once more, and she felt herself wanting it, 
wanting to feel it slide into her the way Donald's had slid in just earlier 
that afternoon. 

But Clayton was playing a teasing, waiting game. He was in no hurry to 
insert his organ; he preferred to play around, rub the end against her, up 
and down her legs, and over her stomach, even across her breasts. She felt 
the end of it touching her nipples, exciting them and making them even 
harder than they were. 

"Hey, Donald, you come here and suck her tits," Clayton said. "She's blowin' 
Ted. You can suck her tits, and I'll let her have this meat. I'm gettin' 
ready to feel her cunt wrap itself around, provided it can take it, of 
course." He laughed coarsely again. Out of the corner of her eye Suzanne saw 
Donald scooting forward, squatting beside her, one hand on his penis, as he 
closed his mouth around her breast and began sucking her nipple, running his 
tongue across it quickly. 

Then she felt her legs being jerked wide apart and the rough coarse skin of 
the Negro's thighs brush against her own soft white flesh as he positioned 
himself and then lowered his hips until the end of his penis was touching 
her vulva. His hands came forward and spread her lips. She heard him 
whisper, "Oh, wowee, I cain't fuck that. Not yet. Gotta eat a little first. 
Gotta taste that sweet white pussy." 

His head descended, and she felt his thick lips and tongue push into her 
flesh and his tongue lick up and down her clitoris, sending quivers of 
delight through her loins. Up and down, in and out, all around, his tongue 
knew exactly what it was doing. 

Suzanne suddenly felt a perverse desire to match her tongue movements with 
Clayton's, licking across Ted's penis in the same rhythm as the colored boy 
was licking her clitoris. The undeniable sensual titillation had engulfed 
her mind and body, and she gave herself over to the sensations which 
prickled across her skin and tingled from every nerve. She felt Donald's 
mouth licking her breasts while his hand manipulated his penis between his 
thighs; why let that cock go to waste? She reached out and pushed his own 
hand away, seizing the shaft and squeezing it. She heard him moan, and his 
tongue licked more furiously at her nipples. Her other hand pushed 
underneath Ted's buttocks and began caressing his anus. She heard him laugh, 
and then his voice broke the silence: "Yeah, baby, yeah!" And she sucked his 
penis with renewed vigor as she felt Clayton's mouth servicing her between 
her legs. Then suddenly Clayton raised up, and she looked over at him, just 
as he lowered his hips and she felt the end of his shaft enter her. 

With a slow thrust, he pushed in, and she shuddered and gasped at the 
thickness of his prick. It felt like her body was being ripped in two. On 
and on he pushed, inch by inch, until his entire organ was enclosed within 
her tight, quivering vagina. She gagged and pulled off Ted's prick and cried 
out. "Oh, God, take it out, take it out." They all laughed. "Go on, fuck 
her," Ted cried out, and Donald even joined in, urging Clayton to action. 

"I sure will," the colored boy said, and began moving his hips, withdrawing 
his rod almost all the way out, then slamming it back in again with a force 
that almost drove the breath out of Suzanne's body. She squirmed and cried 
out, and they all laughed. Faster and faster he went, and it felt like with 
every thrust his massive shaft grew thicker and bigger. 

"You almost there?" asked Ted; and Clayton grunted in what sounded like an 
affirmative. 

"Okay, we all come together," said Ted, grabbing Suzanne's head and pushing 
his penis into her mouth again. "Suck, bitch, and jerk off Donald. Let's all 
shoot into her." 

Clayton's movements, together with his groaning and his hands around her 
buttocks, were almost more than Suzanne could bear. Her vagina felt numb, 
but deep inside her she still experienced the fantastic feelings that came 
from the harsh massage of her clitoris and the rubbing of the thick organ 
inside her vagina. 

She sucked Ted's cock, feeling it flex and throb with each manipulation of 
her mouth and her tongue. In her hand Donald's penis was rock-hard, and he 
was moaning, his mouth biting on her nipples harder and harder. 

Clayton suddenly cried out, and she felt his cock plunge deep into her. He 
held it there, and she could feel the hot flood of his jism within her, 
running down and out of her crack. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he cried, and 
at that second, Ted pushed his shaft in until it jammed against the back of 
her throat, and she felt him spurt and tasted the hot salty come on her 
tongue. She gulped and swallowed, taking it all while her cunt enclosed the 
long, thick black meat within her, spurting its seed deep into her. Ted's 
penis began softening, and he pulled it out of her mouth and eased back on 
his buttocks, watching. 

"You there yet?" he asked Donald, who was still moving his hips frantically. 

"Almost," he gasped. 

"Fuck her between the tits," shouted Ted, and 

Donald swung his legs across Suzanne, sitting on her stomach and pushing her 
breasts together around his penis just as it flexed and shot, the spurts of 
white liquid shooting across her chin and cheek and dripping down her neck. 
He groaned, and she heard Ted laugh. His hand came out and rubbed the come 
all over her mouth and nose. 

"Taste it, smell it, you bitch," he said. "Good, huh?" 

She almost gagged. 

"Lick it off your lips, lick it!" 

Almost in a dream, she put out her tongue and licked the thick salty cream 
off her lips, tasted it, and then swallowed. 

Clayton was still inside her, his penis feeling just as hard and thick as it 
had before. 

"You through?" Ted asked, and Clayton nodded. 

"I'm through but I ain't finished," he said with a grin, "That was only the 
first time." 

He went on moving his hips, and she felt his penis inside her, pressing her 
folds of flesh aside as it cruelly penetrated her. "I'm gonna fuck her dry," 
he said, laughing. 

Donald climbed off and sat back, feeling his softening penis with his hand, 
while Clayton continued fucking her. Ted had his penis in his hand, playing 
with it. 

"Go, man, go," Ted said. "Bet you can't come again in five minutes." 

"You're on, feller," was the calm reply, and the black body flexed and the 
hips began pumping in and out. His lips came down around Suzanne's breasts, 
licking the nipples sensuously. She felt her vagina respond. She knew 
nothing turned her on more than having her breasts sucked, and the way 
Clayton did it was the best ever. She twisted and turned, and then melded 
her movements with his until they were rocking back and forth on the floor, 
the sweat streaming off their bodies as the groins gripped together, joined 
cock-to-cunt, pushing them both towards another climax. 

"Look at that black mother-fucker," said Ted. "He sure can fuck." 

On and on, and Suzanne found herself slipping away from reality. Her mind 
seemed to whirl, and as her hands went around the smooth black. skin, 
holding him close, dragging his mouth down to her own, she felt 
consciousness fading. Just as Clayton's penis discharged into her for the 
second time, she went limp in his arms. He completed his climax and raised 
up, looking down at her. His eyes moved over to Ted and Donald. 

"I done fucked her dry," he said, feeling his penis tenderly. "I'll bet her 
pussy's raw." 

"She's fainted," said Donald, bending closer. "Is she all right?" 

"Sure she is," snapped Ted, bending over Suzanne and slapping her cheeks. 
She mumbled and opened her eyes. 

"See, she was jest takin' a rest," Clayton laughed. He moved away and stood 
up, "You shouldn't sleep, chicky-baby. We've got more fucking for you." 

Suzanne moaned and closed her eyes, feeling that she was about to faint 
again. 

"I'll wake her up," said Ted, standing up, and holding his penis so that it 
pointed to her face. A moment later, a stream of urine splashed down over 
her, and she shuddered, screamed and scrambled away across the floor, the 
loud, coarse laughter of the boys ringing in her ears. 

"Get out, get out," she cried, collapsing on the floor, and sobbing into her 
hands. "Haven't you done enough?" 

They began collecting their clothes and getting dressed. 

"No, we ain't," said Clayton. "Ted was right. You're good pussy, and I aim 
to come back for some more. How 'bout you guys?" 

"Sure, we'll be back," said Ted. 

"When is you receiving?" asked Clayton with exaggerated politeness. Suzanne 
stared up at him, her eyes filled with loathing. 

"Get out," she spat. 

Clayton laughed, and after they had dressed, they all moved to the door. 

"'Bye now," said Ted. "And remember, don't you try and say nothin' to no 
one. Now it's three against one, and who do you think they'll believe?" 

Suzanne stared across. Ted's face was scowling at her; Clayton's held a 
superior look of amusement; only Donald seemed to have some semblance of 
compassion for her. 

And then they were gone, leaving her alone and naked on the floor, her 
vagina throbbing and tender, her breasts scarred with teeth marks, and her 
neck aching and her mouth swollen. She climbed shakily to her feet and went 
into the bathroom. She looked at her face in the mirror and sat down on the 
edge of the bath, so filled with self-loathing and guilt that she hadn't the 
energy to cry. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Suzanne sat in the bathroom for almost an hour, trying to compose herself 
and wondering what to do, where to go and how she should plan her future. 
She knew she couldn't stay in the neighborhood; that was out of the 
question, she reasoned. And yet, if those boys wanted to find her, they had 
only to call her home anonymously and find her new address and then the 
whole horrible scene would start all over again. 

Finally, she realized she was getting chilly, and reached for her robe, tied 
it around her and lay down on the couch, her hand over her eyes. Her body 
was still throbbing painfully, and she eased herself against the cushions, 
trying to relieve the ache. 

Suddenly her nerves jangled with alarm as she heard the clatter of footsteps 
on the stairs, and a moment later a loud knock on the door, and Yvonne's 
throaty voice came filtering through. 

"Hey, anyone home?" 

"Come in, Yvonne," Suzanne called out thankfully, and as her friend walked 
in the door Suzanne felt the tears well up. Yvonne took one look and hurried 
over to her. 

"Oh, baby, what's the matter?" 

Suzanne reached for the other woman, buried her face in her shoulder, and 
sobbed hysterically. Yvonne remained silent, rocking the girl quietly in her 
arms until the crying spell had passed. 

"Okay, you want to talk about it? Is it Sam?" 

Suzanne wiped her eyes, and shook her head. 

"No. No, it's not Sam. It's..." Her voice broke, and a fresh flood of tears 
cascaded down her cheeks. Her robe fell open, and Yvonne's eyes strayed down 
to her breasts. 

"Good God, what's happened to you?" Instinctively the older woman put her 
hand out and touched the scratches and bruises on the smooth, firm white 
breasts. Then her face blanched. "Oh, no, don't tell me. Who was it?" 

Suzanne looked away, flushing, her mind filled with confused thoughts. 

"Come on, I know something's happened, and you look like you were raped by a 
regiment. Who was it, goddammit?" 

Suzanne looked at Yvonne, and her lip trembled. 

"It... it was that kid, Donald, you know. He and his brother and a colored 
boy. They all . . . they all..." 

"Jesus Christ!" 

Yvonne stood up and reached in her pocket for a cigarette, lit one and stood 
back, observing Suzanne. The cigarette trembled in her fingers, and her dark 
eyes were filled with anger. 

"You want to talk about it?" 

Suzanne nodded, sat up, and carefully related her experiences the past two 
days, making sure to leave out nothing. When she had finished, Yvonne, who 
had walked to the window and was looking out, listening, turned to her and 
ground her cigarette in the ashtray. 

"Well, there's not much you can do, I guess, except get the hell out of 
here," she said. "Those little bastards'll be back again, you know that. One 
thing: you're not staying here tonight. You come to our apartment. You can 
stay with me and Carole. You'll probably feel better with some decent 
company around." 

She took Suzanne's hand and lifted her up. Suzanne rose and put her arms 
around Yvonne. 

"Oh, Yvonne, I feel so dirty," she murmured. "They were so horrible, so 
mean." 

"Oh, dear, I've just thought of something," said Yvonne. "Have you had a hot 
bath, and douched?" 

Suzanne shook her head. "I just sat in the bathroom, trying to think," she 
replied. "I haven't done anything." 

"Okay: first thing, you go lie in the bath for an hour, and douche real 
good. You sure as hell don't want to get pregnant at this stage of the game. 
You say they did come in you?" 

Suzanne nodded. "Yes, they did. I could feel it shooting inside me and 
running out." 

"You're not on the pill, I gather?" 

Suzanne shook her head. "Why should I be? I've never done that with a guy 
before. I wanted to save myself for Sam. And now, oh, Yvonne, it's 
horrible." 

"Yes, yes, I know, dear. Listen, perhaps you'd better come to our place now. 
You can use our bathroom, and I have a douche can which gets lots of use, 
let me assure you." 

"No, I'll come down later," said Suzanne. "I'll bathe up here." 

"Look, dumdum, they might just as easily come back now," Yvonne said. "Come 
on, come down right this minute. Lock your door behind you, and turn the 
lights out." 

"All right. Are you sure Carole won't mind?" 

Yvonne laughed loudly. "Of course not. Would you believe Carole started 
living with me after something similar happened to her, about a year ago? We 
both lived in a building over on Cass, and I figured it was safe enough, but 
I guess you never can tell. Carole was raped by a guy one night, and came 
running to me for help. She spent the night, and the next day she moved in. 
We've been sharing a place ever since. And believe me, there've been no more 
episodes like that in her life." Yvonne's face softened from its usual 
cynical demeanor. "You poor kid. Come on." 

Suzanne looked at her friend, and smiled for the first time since the boys 
left the apartment. "Thanks. I do appreciate this." "Nonsense." 

Yvonne put her arm around the girl's waist and they walked to the door. 
Suzanne took the key off the nail where she usually hung it and locked the 
door behind her. In silence they walked to Yvonne's apartment. As they 
entered, Carole was seated on the couch, reading. 

"Hi." Then she saw the expression on their faces. "Oh, wow, what's wrong?" 

"You remember one night something that happened to you?" said Yvonne, and 
Carole nodded, her face becoming grim, "Well, it happened to Suzanne. Not 
one, but three, all at the same time. One black two white. Now that's what I 
call carrying integration too far." She tried to smile, but Carole's face 
remained impassive. 

"Jesus. You going to call the police?" 

Suzanne shook her head. 

"That will only mean scandal, and it would be their word against mine. What 
can you do, really?" 

She sat down, and stared vaguely around the apartment. Carole whistled 
softly, and looked up at Yvonne. 

"Men," Her voice spat out the word. "Who needs 'em?" 

Yvonne nodded. "They're all animals, beasts," she agreed, "Thank God I can 
live without 'em." 

Suzanne frowned, and stared up at Yvonne. The sincerity and hate in the 
woman's voice was unmistakable. 

"Yvonne, you . .. you . . ." Yvonne grinned, reading her mind. 

"Oh, don't you believe all you hear, dear," she said lightly, some of her 
usual flipness returning. "I put on a good front, but believe me, the only 
cock I admire is the one on my father's farm in Upper Michigan, and all he 
does is make a lot of noise every morning. Which is what I do about men, 
just to keep them at arm's length." 

Suzanne frowned, and decided not to pursue the matter further. She suddenly 
felt extremely weary, and the idea of a hot bath appealed to her. 

"I'd like that bath now," she said. "Then I think I'd just as soon lie down. 
I'm worn out." 

"Fucked out, you mean, dear," said Yvonne bluntly. "But don't worry. You'll 
be all right tomorrow, take it from me." 

Suzanne stood up and slowly walked to the bathroom. Yvonne followed her in, 
and pointed to a towel behind the door. "You can use that towel," she said, 
"and the douche can's in the cupboard there. Make it nice 'n hot, and put a 
tablespoon of this in the water. The douche water, I mean." She reached for 
a box and handed it over. Suzanne looked at it. "Don't look so confused," 
said Yvonne, grinning. "It's plain old douche powder, but it'll kill 
anything that shouldn't be up that little twat of yours. It'll also soothe 
those tender spots, and they can get very tender, I know. I've had my share. 
Years ago, you understand." She laughed, and Suzanne smiled at her. 

"You're a good friend," she said warmly. "Thanks." 

Yvonne left, and Suzanne closed the door and began running the water into 
the tub. She mixed the douche powder and inserted the nozzle, feeling the 
hot water gushing into her vagina, reminding her of the penis that had been 
up there, that enormous, black cock which had given her such pleasure. What 
was she thinking? Pleasure? Yes, her mind echoed, yes, it did. It made you 
feel better than any sex you've ever had. You've ever had? You've only had 
sex since yesterday, and before then it was your finger doing the walking 
through that cavern of yours. Well, it was better than Ted, better than 
Donald, she admitted to herself. And there was such a perversity about it, 
especially considering her innate feelings about the blacks. Not that she 
was anti-Negro; she just didn't ever desire to have relations with one. The 
rest of him she didn't particularly like. But his penis was undoubtedly the 
best: long, thick, rigid, able to probe her very depths and give her 
satisfaction like she never dreamed possible. What was his name again? 
Clayton; that was it, Clayton with the big cock. 

She lay back in the tub, letting the hot water lap around her neck, covering 
her completely and easing the soreness in her limbs, especially her thighs 
and her neck. Yes, those would be the places that ached the most. Her thighs 
from all the action with her legs, wrapping them around those sweating, 
fucking bodies and having those pricks ramming in and out of her. Carefully 
she put her finger down to her vulva and probed inside. It was tender, but 
not so bad as she thought it would be. Hell, why should it be? she reasoned. 
Nothing sharp had been put in there, only a soft tongue or a hard, smooth 
cock. But even too much of that can cause redness, soreness, swelling... 
swelling, oh God, she prayed she wasn't pregnant. But she remembered 
somewhere reading that a good hot bath and a douche will take care of any 
unwanted pregnancy. She had done that last night, and now again tonight. She 
was all right; she knew she was. She prayed she was. 

Her fingers massaged her neck, the muscles on each side that had been given 
such a workout with sucking all that cock. She wondered how whores managed, 
doing it every night. Maybe they got used to it, or maybe there was a knack 
to sucking a penis without getting sore muscles in the neck. 

She lay back, letting her arms float, and closed her eyes. The memory of the 
three boys was still vivid, and the more she relived those moments of 
horror, the more she admitted that there had been a satisfaction about it. 
After all, they weren't doing anything that she wouldn't have been doing 
with Sam, once they had been married; but then wasn't that being just 
old-fashioned? She heard her mother's voice, telling her not once but many 
times that nice girls don't let boys have their way, not until after 
marriage. "Yes, my dear," Mrs. Delacorte had said. "All this talk today of 
sleeping around may sound very modern and clever, but let me tell you, 
getting pregnant isn't any fun. I remember when I was carrying you, how 
often I'd get sick in the mornings, and then when you arrived, let me tell 
you, having a baby is just about the worst experience any woman can endure. 
I've often thought the Lord might have thought up an easier way. Maybe one 
day science will provide the answer with incubators and computers. It 
certainly will save a lot of inconvenience, don't you think?" 

Yes, maybe so, Suzanne had thought; but now she had experienced sex, she 
wondered if the good Lord didn't have the right idea after all. It was a 
wonderful feeling, and whether it had been Ted, Or Donald, or Clayton, her 
body had responded, and she trembled again at the thought of their organs 
penetrating her and sending those exquisite feelings through her, and her 
orgasm had been something she could scarcely believe. Oh, how wonderful she 
had felt! Yet why couldn't it have been someone nice, a boy like Sam who 
loved her, and who treated her with tenderness and was gentle with sex, 
instead of that violence, with its ugly words, its revolting bestial 
overtones, like she was an animal there to be fucked and nothing more? Yet 
she had to admit she enjoyed it. There was something perverse in her nature, 
she decided, that wanted to be treated roughly, to be physically manhandled 
and taken bodily without regard to her sensitivities. In some ways, she 
wouldn't mind having sex again with those boys, but not in the same way, 
perhaps. Suzanne sat bolt upright in the tub, her eyes wide open at the 
thoughts; good grief, she thought, I'm sick, thinking things like that. Any 
self-respecting girl would never want that again; but then, how really 
self-respecting was she? Was it that perhaps she needed that type of sex to 
truly satisfy her, something loathsome to her previous ideas, something so 
different from what she had dreamed of.. . 

"You all right in there?" 

Yvonne's voice came ringing through the door. 

"Yes. Fine." 

The door opened, and Yvonne peeked around at her. 

"We're fixing supper," she said. "How long'll you be?" 

"I'm ready to get out now," replied Suzanne, smiling. "And would you 
believe, I'm starving." 

Yvonne sniffed in her best Eve Arden manner. "I know what you mean," she 
said cynically. "Nothing like a good fuck to work up an appetite." 

"Yvonne! !" 

The door closed, and Suzanne smiled to herself. Yvonne was a nut, but a good 
friend, a sincere and true person. 

She climbed out of the tub and stood, drying herself carefully, paying 
special attention to her crotch and her breasts. The marks had faded 
slightly, but her nipples were still very sore and tender. She slipped her 
robe on again and walked out into the living room. There was a smell of 
stew, and the small table in the kitchen was set for three. Carole was 
standing over the stove, stirring a large pot. Yvonne was opening three 
Cokes and pouring them into glasses. 

"Well, feel better?" 

Suzanne nodded. "Much. I still ache, though, and my breasts are sore." 

Yvonne chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Sounds like they really gave you a working 
over." 

"They did!" 

"The bastards." 

Carole tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and turned, grinning. 

"Yvonne and I both know about the kids in this neighborhood. They look like 
sweet innocent little things, but they've been fucking their sisters since 
they could get a hard-on. And the girls are no better. I caught one the 
other day in the alley, blowing some man for a quarter." 

Suzanne's eyes opened wide. 

"Don't look so shocked. That's nothing to what really goes on around here." 
Carole laughed. "I've done a little research myself. I'm also taking 
sociology, remember." 

Suzanne sat down and pursed her lips. "You know, I truly feel that if these 
people didn't live in such degraded surroundings, they'd have the chance the 
develop better, to have a more uplifting outlook on life. And sex," she 
added. 

Yvonne snorted. "People are people," she snapped. "Just because the income's 
low and the area a slum doesn't necessarily mean people have to indulge in 
behavior like they do. It's not the finances or the neighborhood. It's what 
makes them tick inside. Take it from me. I've known lots of people from 
Grosse Pointe who do just the same, only perhaps with a little more 
finesse." Suzanne nodded. 

"I know. I've heard about the orgies they have, but at least there isn't the 
rough raw ..." She groped for words ... "the bestial type of approach. Those 
kids handled me like I was just some object they could do what they pleased 
with. There was no hint of love, affection, or anything like that. It was 
pure animal sex, and nothing more. It's frightening." 

Yvonne sat down and nodded. "Yup. I know. Would you believe when I was ten, 
I was gang-banged by four kids at school. They walked home with me; we lived 
quite a ways from school. This was up in that stinking little town in Upper 
Michigan where I was born. Anyway, the one guy, his name was Hank. I'll 
never forget him. He must've been around fourteen, real good-looking, and he 
had been paying me a lot of attention. He said I was the prettiest girl in 
school. I knew it was just because I sassed him back when he talked to me. I 
was pretty mature for my age, I guess. And I knew all about the birds and 
the bees, so I knew what he was hinting at all the time, but I wasn't giving 
them any chances. Hank even asked me once if I wanted to come home with him 
and play with his prick. He said it was the biggest in class. He wasn't 
lying about that, by the way. Jesus! I told him to quit talking like that or 
I'd report him to the teacher. 

"Well, this afternoon, I'll never forget it, he walked me home, and these 
other three kids joined him. They were all about thirteen or fourteen, I 
guess. Hank started talking dirty, and then suddenly, just as we were 
passing old man Johnson's barn, they grabbed me, and whipped me inside 
before I could scream or shit or go blind or anything. They had my clothes 
off and were having at it before five minutes had passed. Two of them held 
me down while the others had their fun. I've never been so scared in my 
life. I bled like crazy, but that didn't stop them. They all got their rocks 
off, and then ran like hell, leaving me there. 

"I kinda cleaned myself up as best I could, and limped home. I could hardly 
walk, my cunt was so sore. When I got home, I went to the bathroom and sat 
in a tub for hours, it seemed. When mother got home from work, I told her 
what had happened. She went to the principal of the school, and the boys 
were hauled up and all hell broke loose. Of course, they all denied it, and 
it was four of them against me. And that's where it ended. I was too young 
to get pregnant, thank God, and none of them had the clap, so after a few 
days, apart from a tender cunt, I was back to normal. But I've never 
forgotten that. Which is why I feel the way I do about men right now, I 
guess." 

There was a silence. Throughout Yvonne's story, Carole had been watching 
her, her eyes filled with compassion. Suzanne gasped when Yvonne ended. 

"You mean ... nothing was done?" 

Yvonne gave a short laugh. "Like I said, it was their word against mine. 
Just like you and those bastards. If you go to the police, it will only mean 
scandal, and you couldn't prove anything. And they'd get their families to 
provide an alibi. No, little one, chalk it up to experience, just hope you 
haven't been knocked up, or got the clap or something, and let it go. Of 
course, if any of them come knocking at your door again, call the police 
first and don't open the door whatever you do. Better still, stick your head 
out the window and scream bloody murder. That'll scare 'em off." Suzanne 
thought a moment. "I guess I'd better get checked out by a doctor, just in 
case." 

Yvonne shrugged. "If you want to. I'd wait a few days, though. You'll know 
if anything's wrong in that department. As for being pregnant, I don't have 
to tell you how to know about that." Her tone softened, and her hand came 
out and squeezed Suzanne's arm. "You poor kid. It's rough to go through 
something like that when you've been protected all your young life." Suzanne 
grinned. "Well, we live and learn." Carole brought over the food from the 
stove and placed it in the middle of the table. 

"Okay, enough of this talk," she said lightly. "Time to eat. Dig in." 

Thankfully, Suzanne helped herself to the stew, and began eating ravenously. 
For some reason, the horror of her experience had faded and she felt a warm 
glow, surrounded by her friends in a pleasant atmosphere where she knew she 
was safe. At least for the moment. But what about tomorrow? 

The silence was broken by Carole slamming her books closed, and pushing back 
the chair from the desk. 

"Well, enough of abnormal psychology for one night," she said. "I think I'm 
going to bed. You all about ready?" 

Suzanne opened her eyes and stretched her arms above her head. She had been 
resting on the couch. 

"I guess I'm ready," she said. "How about you, Yvonne?" 

Yvonne looked up from a textbook, removed her glasses, and nodded. She 
looked over at Suzanne. 

"You don't mind sleeping with us, do you?" she asked. "We have that 
king-size bed, and it's big enough for four, really." 

Suzanne smiled. 

"That's fine. I really appreciate this. I'm feeling much better already. I'm 
still a little tender, though, here and there." 

Yvonne smirked. "Here and there. You mean your tits and your cunt, don't 
you?" Suzanne flushed and Carole laughed. 

"Oh, you're such a prude, really," she said. "I can't believe you're from 
Grosse Pointe. Almost everyone I've met from there is about as raunchy as 
they come. At least with their language. Or maybe I've not met the right 
people." 

"I'm not a prude," Suzanne said defensively. "It's just that..." 

"We know. We know." Yvonne's voice boomed across the room. "Incidentally, 
I've got some real great cream which I think you might use tonight. It'll 
ease those scratches and help the healing. It's in the bedroom. Come on." 

Carole turned off the living room lights, and they all went into the 
bedroom, where the bed seemed to stretch from wall to wall. Yvonne rummaged 
in the dresser drawer and came out with a tube of cream. She walked over to 
Suzanne. 

"Okay, relax. Let mother do it." 

"I can do it myself," said Suzanne, feeling suddenly embarrassed. 

"Nonsense; don't tell me you're shy in front of me?" said Yvonne, chuckling 
softly. "Go on, strip." 

Suzanne undid her robe and let it fall away from her. The other girls 
stared, and Carole whistled. 

"Oh, wow, look at those tits," she murmured. 

"Yeah, they are kinda bruised, aren't they?" said Yvonne softly, sitting 
down next to Suzanne and uncapping the tube of cream. "Lie back, dear. This 
won't hurt a bit." 

"I can do it myself, Yvonne, really," said Suzanne, but she lay back and 
watched as Yvonne spread some cream on her fingers and reached forward, 
spreading it over her breasts. Suzanne closed her eyes and was conscious of 
a rising excitement within her. Yvonne's hands were incredibly soft, and 
they spread the cream over each breast, rubbing it gently around the 
nipples. Within seconds, Suzanne's nipples were hard and projecting up from 
her large, round orbs. 

"Feel good?" asked Yvonne, and there was a subtle change in her voice; 
normally rough and raucous, it now held the sensuous overtones of a tender, 
compassionate woman. 

"Hm ... too good," said Suzanne. 

"I know. Relax." 

Yvonne continued massaging the cream into Suzanne's breasts. Carole climbed 
under the sheets and lay back staring at the others. 

"You've sure got lovely breasts, Suzanne," said Carole. 

"You've said it," said Yvonne huskily. "Best pair of boobs I've seen in a 
long time. Next to you, of course, Carole," she added hastily. Suzanne was 
beginning to feel completely relaxed, but conscious of her growing feeling 
of sex within her. Despite the experience of the afternoon, the gentle 
massage of her bosom was having its effect. She felt her vagina begin to 
react and the urge assert itself once more. 

"I... I think you'd better stop," she murmured. "That's fine, thanks, 
Yvonne." 

"Oh, there's still the rest of you," said Yvonne, her voice unnaturally 
forced and gay. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." 

Before Suzanne could move, Yvonne's hands had slid down to her crotch and 
she was massaging a large glob of cream around her vulva, her fingers 
slipping into her crack and sending chills through her body. 

"That all right?" asked Yvonne softly. 

"Yes." Suzanne's voice was low and uncertain. With the growing desire 
prompted by the massage of her breasts, she now was experiencing an almost 
overpowering urge to have Yvonne touch her clitoris and masturbate her. The 
more she resisted the idea, the more she found herself weakening. Yvonne's 
fingers probed, touched, titillated her, rubbing in the cream, and at the 
same time arousing her to a fever pitch. 

"Yvonne, I ... I think that's enough, thanks," said Suzanne weakly, raising 
up, and as she looked down she saw the expression on Yvonne's face, and a 
cold chill ran through her. It was quite obvious that Yvonne was enjoying 
what she was doing, and from the movements under the sheet she knew that 
Carole had her hand in her crotch and was playing with herself. 

Yvonne looked at Suzanne and smiled. 

"It's never enough," she said. "Ask Carole." 

Carole laughed. 

"Stop trying to corrupt this child," she said evenly. "Besides, I'm here." 

"Okay, okay," said Yvonne, standing up and capping the tube of cream. 
Without another word, she went into the bathroom, and returned a few moments 
later, stark naked. 

Suzanne looked at her curiously. 

"We always sleep raw," said Yvonne perfunctorily, jumping into bed. "Come 
on, you can sleep on this side." 

Slowly Suzanne crawled under the sheets, her heart beating wildly, and as 
the light clicked off, she felt Yvonne's hand creep around her waist. 

"You relax," was the the quiet command. "Try and get some sleep now." 

Suzanne lay still, aware that her heart was thumping like never before, and 
that Yvonne's fingers were soft on her skin. The desire which she had felt 
before now asserted itself even more strongly, and she bit her lip, trying 
to chase the thought from her mind. She bit her lip again, harder, till she 
felt sure she had drawn blood, thinking that she must think of anything 
except those soft fingers touching her, titillating her, feeling her up, oh, 
God, please, please.... 

"What's the matter, Suzanne?" 

Only then she realized she must have given a soft cry, and she felt even 
more embarrassed and ashamed. 

"Is it still hurting down there?" 

Yvonne's voice was low and insinuating, and Suzanne felt the woman's hand 
creep down and place itself gently between her legs, her fingers just 
probing into her vulva and touching her clitoris. Suzanne gave a moan, and 
then Carole's voice broke the silence. 

"For Chrissake, Yvonne, quit screwing round." 

Yvonne's voice was no longer soft, but its usual raucous and commanding 
self. "Fuck you, baby." 

There was a click and the light went on, and Suzanne blinked to see Carole 
sitting up in the bed, her face flushed and her lips pursed angrily. 

"Did you ask Suzanne up here to fuck, or what?" 

"Cool it, Carole." 

Suzanne struggled up to a sitting position, and her eyes flashed. 

"There's something I guess I don't know," she began, but Carole cut her 
short. 

"Listen, Suzanne, I don't mind Yvonne screwing around, but not in the same 
goddamn bed with me. Understand?" 

Yvonne giggled, and it was the first time Suzanne had ever heard a truly 
feminine response from her. . 

"Jealous, dear? It's not the first time we've had company and shared it." 

Suzanne's face was scarlet. "Do you mean..." Her eyes went from one to the 
other. 

"Yes, dear, if you must know, Yvonne and I are lovers. What's so almighty 
strange about that? Don't tell me you didn't know." 

Suzanne shock her head dumbly. Lovers. That meant they were lesbians. But 
how was that possible? Yvonne was supposed to be screwing every good-looking 
guy on campus. 

"I didn't know, and I don't believe you," Suzanne said heatedly. "Yvonne's 
got lots of boyfriends." 

"Yes, dear, that I do," said Yvonne calmly. "After all, we've all got to 
keep up appearances. I'll even shack up once in a while with a man, but this 
is where my heart is." 

She reached over and embraced Carole. They kissed quickly, and then Yvonne 
turned to Suzanne and smiled. 

"I could feel something when I was putting the cream on you," she said. 
"You'd like a little fun, wouldn't you? Come on, admit it. You're as horny 
as ever right now." 

Suzanne flushed and bit her lip again. Carole laughed. 

"You ever had sex with a girl?" she asked bluntly. "No? I thought not. Well, 
I guess today's the day for education. Lay back and enjoy it, dear. Yvonne 
taught me everything, and believe me, she knows what she's doing." 

Yvonne reached over and put her hand between Suzanne's legs. "Once you enjoy 
it, you'll forget all about those boys," she murmured. "You might even 
forget about men, period." 

Suzanne felt a shudder pass through her body as Yvonne's fingers probed her 
canal, touching her clitoris. No, no, no, this is wrong, she thought 
quickly; I mustn't. I mustn't. Yet why not? The gentle persuasion of those 
fingers could not be denied. Suzanne closed her eyes, and then she felt the 
soft pressure, of Yvonne's lips on her own, and Yvonne's tongue pushed into 
her mouth. Instinctively she responded, and she heard Yvonne's breath heavy 
on her as the woman exhaled deeply, pulled their bodies together and they 
kissed with all the passion possible. 

After a moment, they broke apart, and Yvonne smiled at her tenderly. "See. 
That didn't hurt a bit, did it? Now you lay back and Carole and I'll show 
you what it's all about." 

Carole scooted over, her breasts swinging in front of her, and Suzanne 
suddenly realized what big tits the girl had. Beautiful big tits, with 
upturned nipples that pointed provocatively at her. 

Yvonne's mouth closed over hers again, and as they kissed, Suzanne felt 
something warm and wet sliding up her leg. She glanced quickly down and saw 
Carole's head bobbing between her legs; she was licking her skin, up and 
down the inside of her thighs, working slowly up to her bush, and finally 
lowering her mouth over it, her tongue probing in, licking her clitoris and 
sending sensuous thrills through Suzanne's body as she had never before 
dreamed possible. Oh, how wonderful, she thought, how soft, delicious and 
wonderful; better than that hard, ugly rod that had probed her vagina so 
violently earlier that day. Oh, yes, more, more, suck it, suck it. 

She began twisting her body, writhing in ecstasy. Yvonne's hands were on her 
breasts, caressing them, touching her nipples and rubbing her skin, still 
moist from the cream. Carole concentrated her attention on her moist, oozing 
crack, her tongue licking and pushing in and out slowly and with infinite 
tenderness and erotic titillation. Suzanne began moaning, and her arms went 
around Yvonne, holding her close and holding her tightly. 

"Oh, yes, yes," she breathed, and then from inside her she felt an urge that 
she had known was there, but had never allowed surface, and she screamed 
out, "Fuck me, fuck me." 

Yvonne pulled away quickly and grinned at her. 

"Wow, we've got a little tiger here," she murmured. "What do you know?" 

Suzanne pulled Yvonne's head to her own, and kissed her passionately, 
running her tongue over the woman's cheeks and neck. Yvonne shook with 
passion, and her hands played over Suzanne's body. 

Suzanne felt as if she was floating up off the bed and looking down, 
watching this strange drama being played out by a cast of three, two 
obviously experienced and the other new to the arena but with a multitude of 
hidden desires that were boiling up and taking control, turning the sweet, 
innocent little girl into a voracious animal with fire in her loins that 
demanded quenching. 

Without realizing what she was doing, Suzanne reached down and began feeling 
Yvonne's breasts. They were rather small and flat, but they felt like the 
most sensuous orbs, capable of arousing her even more; hungrily Suzanne 
lowered her lips and took a nipple between her teeth and bit gently. Yvonne 
gasped and her fingers dug into Suzanne's flesh in response, and almost with 
the same movement she pushed Suzanne over on the bed, and her tongue went 
down, licking her flesh. Yvonne swung around so that her hips were opposite 
Suzanne's head, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world as 
Suzanne's mouth descended on the dark brown bush between Yvonne's legs, and 
her fingers pulled the lips apart and her tongue pushed in, licking and 
tasting for the first time the warm wetness within her cunt. 

Yvonne and Carole both began exploring Suzanne's crotch. Carole's fingers 
held it apart, and they both gazed inside at the hot, soft flesh oozing with 
juices of desire. Yvonne's lips rubbed over the folds, and she took the 
clitoris between her teeth, the end of her tongue flicking across it, 
sending stabs of ecstasy through Suzanne's body. 

Their bodies blended, twisting and turning, crawling over each other, their 
fingers and tongues exploring every crack and crevice, receiving and 
imparting the most erotic delights that are possible. Suzanne could scarcely 
believe herself; only hours before, she had been pinned beneath a vicious 
thrusting male, hurting and pleasuring her at the same time, and making her 
scream for mercy and relief from the scene. And here she was, embroiled once 
more in an orgy of sensual delight. What did it matter? Who cared? Sex rose 
up within her, demanding relief; her lifelong frustrations and continence 
had driven her over the edge. For the first time she was indulging without 
inhibition, without any reservations. No more the timid little girl 
masturbating by herself in the privacy of her room; here she was, naked and 
aroused, intertwined with two other bodies, each eager for the ultimate peak 
of ecstasy, and not caring how it came, or with whom. And it was with two 
girls. Did this mean she was really a lesbian? Suzanne didn't care, and 
hardly thought about it. She only knew deep within her that these two girls 
would not hurt her the way the boys had; they were being gentle, tender, yet 
at the same time violently arousing. With every feather touch of their 
tongues, her vagina quivered with increasing delight, its folds voluptuously 
reacting to their stimulus. There was nothing but sweet, lovely sex, a 
stimulation she never dreamed possible. This was the way it should have been 
before; this was the way she had hoped it would always be, with Sam, with 
anyone, who cared? It was sex-pure, wonderful, cunt-twitching, tit-twisting, 
lip-sucking sex and she was loving every second of it. 

Her throat began making little animal sounds of pleasure as she sucked and 
licked around Yvonne's crotch. She thrilled to the hardness of the woman's 
clitoris between her lips, caressing her with tenderness and passion. And 
between her own legs, the others were paying homage to her sweet, hot little 
pussy, giving and getting their pleasure from her innermost erotic feelings. 

Suddenly Suzanne knew it couldn't go on much longer; she felt the slow surge 
of deep desire, right from her vagina down to the mouth of her womb, 
throughout every part of her. Her breasts were quivering, her thighs 
twitching, her entire body trembling with the approaching climax, and then 
she screamed out, "I'm coming, Jesus God, I'm there, I'm there. Fuck me, 
fuck me!" And Yvonne's tongue pushed even harder into her canal as her 
insides convulsed and she felt the warm rush of her juices spewing forth, 
running down to Yvonne's greedily licking mouth. Her hands clawed at the 
body next to hers, clawed at the air, and she was totally unaware of what 
she was saying or doing; the overpowering strength of the orgasm, the most 
beautiful orgasm she had ever experienced, took over and drove all else from 
her mind. 

Suzanne felt it lasted forever, and then it was over, and she lay back, 
exhausted but immeasurably satisfied and feeling so content she wasn't quite 
sure whether she was lying on the bed, or floating on clouds. 

She was dimly aware of Carole and Yvonne continuing for a little while, 
until they both climaxed, each moaning and thrashing together on the bed, 
their bodies blending, their breasts flying and their mouths covering each 
other's cunts. Then they lay back, breathing heavily, and Yvonne kept 
saying, "Oh, sweet Jesus, I don't believe it, I don't believe it." 

Carole slid off the bed and went to the bathroom. When she returned, she lit 
a cigarette and sat up against the headboard, smoking and staring down at 
Suzanne with a sly grin on her face. 

"You're something else," she commented. 

"She is that," said Yvonne, opening her eyes and reaching for Carole's 
cigarette. "Gimme a drag." She inhaled deeply, her eyes on Carole, then she 
turned and looked at Suzanne. "That was pretty good for an amateur, baby." 

Carole laughed coarsely. "Amateur? Huh!" 

Suzanne smiled at them. "That's the first time ever for me," she said in a 
small voice. "But..." 

"But it's something you've always wanted to do, is that it?" said Yvonne. 

Suzanne nodded. "And it was so much better than with the boys today." 

Carole laughed. ''Compliments will get you everywhere." 

"No, I mean it," said Suzanne. "With the boys I was scared, and they hurt 
me. There was no tenderness. No..." She paused for a moment. "No love," she 
finished shyly. 

Yvonne smiled, and patted her on the shoulder. 

"You're very sweet, love," she said sincerely, "and I won't deny I've always 
wanted us to ball. But in any type of sex, it's the feeling behind it that 
counts. I think you've always had a lot of feeling, and just needed that 
first time to break the dam, if you'll excuse the simile." 

Carole laughed. 

"I felt the same way. Yvonne was my first girl." 

"And I don't feel bad about it, either," said Suzanne defiantly. "I mean. . 
." 

"Okay, okay," said Yvonne. "This ain't the time for soul-searching. Or for a 
dissertation on sex. It's time for bed. And for sleep. Come on, I'm bushed." 

"Me, too," said Carole, mashing her cigarette in the ashtray. 

"You know something?" said Suzanne with a giggle. "I'm ready to go again." 

Yvonne and Carole exchanged looks. 

"Dear God, what have we started?" said Yvonne, and she leaned over and gave 
Suzanne a playful spank on her rear end. 

"You're going to bed and to sleep, young lady," she said in mock severity. 
"Tomorrow's another day." 

Carole reached for the light switch, and the room plunged into darkness. 
There was a rustle as they adjusted themselves under the covers. Yvonne and 
Carole lay together, their arms about one another. Suzanne lay, her back to 
them, and closed her eyes. Her body was still glowing, and her vagina felt 
sensitive and satisfied. The memory of the boys had faded beneath the 
knowledge of her recent actions with the girls; how wonderful it had been, 
she thought. This means that maybe we can do it again tomorrow... 

Tomorrow ... what would happen tomorrow? Would those boys come back? What 
should she do about it? As she slipped into sleep, she pictured Clayton's 
large black cock, its surface shiny and the head oozing as it was waved in 
front of her. It hadn't been that bad, she thought; maybe... She shivered, 
and was asleep. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

The early morning light filtered through the drapes, and in the street the 
first sounds of activity could be heard. A friendly shout between two men 
echoed up to the room, and Suzanne stirred, opened her eyes and looked 
about. At first she felt a stab of uncertainty, then she realized where she 
was. Then she remembered what had happened the night before, and her face 
went scarlet. She looked over her shoulder and saw Yvonne and Carole, still 
asleep, their arms about each other, a look of beatific contentment on their 
faces. Oh, God, what have I done, she thought. How could I possibly have 
joined them in that orgy of sensual delight? Suzanne shivered and pulled the 
sheet up to her neck. Ah, but it was wonderful, wasn't it? It was the best 
sex ever. But what about the boys? 

She shivered again, remembering the harshness of the boys' words, actions 
and manner; yet there was something primitive and appealing about it. God, 
she didn't want to go through that again, but she did feel that she wouldn't 
mind having sex again with a man. After all, that wonderful piece of meat, 
that lovely long lance that could pleasure her vagina with such ecstasy. Oh, 
yes, she wanted that again. 

She wondered who it would be with; she hoped it would be Sam, because she 
knew Sam's penis was large and long. She had not touched it, but she had 
seen it, sticking up out of his pants that night on Belle Isle. Oh, why 
didn't she give in and take it then? Sam might not have gone off to Europe. 
They might even have been married by now. She knew she loved him, and he 
loved her, so why didn't she? She wanted to; remembering back, she knew she 
did want to feel it, to take it between her lips and suck it till his sperm 
shot out in great gobs into her mouth, coating her tongue with delicious 
saltiness before being swallowed and becoming a part of her. Oh, yes, she 
had wanted him that night; she had wanted him many nights, but she could 
never bring herself to go through with it. She always remembered those 
moments when her mother had said to her, "Suzanne, remember, nice girls 
don't. Only cheap little tramps will indulge before marriage." And she had 
wanted to ask her mother then whether she hadn't made it with a boy before 
she married. 

But there was something about Mrs. Delacorte that made Suzanne afraid of 
asking anything so intimate. Her mother was very prone to discussing the 
intimacies of Grosse Pointe gossip, but something as personal as sex was 
taboo. There had been several times when her father had brought up the 
subject, often in a joke, and Suzanne felt a warmth; but inevitably her 
mother would freeze them both with a cutting remark and comments about "not 
being coarse." 

Now that she had finally experienced sex, an overwhelming orgy of sensation, 
she wondered why and how the whole aura of dirt and revulsion became 
attached to the subject. After all, it was a most enjoyable experience; at 
least, despite the horror of the attack by the boys, she knew that the 
ultimate penetration and orgasm was something undeniably pleasurable. And 
with someone tender and loving, as Yvonne and Carole had been the night 
before, it was the greatest release, the highest expression of emotion. Yet 
why, then, did she still feel such pangs of remorse, such a feeling of guilt 
and self-recrimination ? 

Suzanne looked over towards the two sleeping girls and wondered whether they 
felt the same ugly gnawing in their stomachs after indulging in relations? 
Obviously not, if they had been living together as lovers. Yet how could 
Yvonne also have sex with men? Suzanne had read a marginal amount of 
literature on the subject, but she was aware of Freud's bisexual theories, 
which must have some basis of fact, judging from her own reaction the night 
before and her active participation in sex play. 

But still, she couldn't help wondering how she was ever able to indulge with 
the girls, not merely the act itself but so soon after the traumatic 
experience with the boys. It must have been Yvonne's tender massage of her 
breasts and her vagina, she knew that was it. Any girl would react to such a 
stimulus; yet she knew deep within her that it was more than that. It were 
as though a demon had been loosed in her loins. Held back for so long, she 
finally felt her inhibitions falling away. She wanted to indulge, she wanted 
to enjoy the delights of sex. to throw herself with complete abandon into 
the most perverse practices she could imagine, provided they were pleasant 
and didn't hurt anyone and, most of all, there was no violence except in the 
intensity of the sexual feeling that quivered in her. 

With a sigh, Suzanne pressed her hand to her forehead to ease the ache that 
had just begun. There was a movement on the bed and she heard a low moan. 

"Oh, God, it's morning," said Yvonne, her voice sounding like the rumble of 
the trucks up and down Woodward Avenue. 

"Hi," said Suzanne. 

Yvonne reached out a thin arm for the cigarettes on the night stand. She 
shook one out of the package and clicked the lighter, inhaling deeply and 
leaning back, holding Carole's still sleeping body in one arm. 

"Oh, that's better." Yvonne managed a grin and tapped Suzanne's shoulder 
with her forefinger, still holding the cigarette in her hand. 

"How's our little violated virgin this morning?" 

"Okay, I think." 

"That doesn't sound very convincing." Suzanne shifted in the bed. "Oh, I've 
just been lying here thinking." Yvonne heaved under a sudden attack of 
coughing. 

"That can be dangerous, especially at this hour. I guess you've got all 
sorts of guilty feelings running around that head of yours, huh?" 

Suzanne nodded. 

"I'm ... a little confused." 

"Aren't we all? Let me tell you something." Yvonne took another deep drag 
from the cigarette and exhaled slowly. "I won't hand out advice, but I'll 
make a few comments. You've gone through a lot in the past two days. I mean, 
with sex. I know what happened with those little bastards must've shaken you 
to the bottom of your carnal cavern, and last night, well..." Yvonne laughed 
softly. "That's another bag of beans entirely. But am I right in saying that 
you've had more sex the last two days than you've ever had before?" 

Suzanne nodded. "I've never had sex before. Ever. Not with anyone. But. . . 
but I've often wanted to." 

"Why didn't you? I thought you and Sam were pretty thick there for a while." 

"Well, mother's always told me it wasn't right. I mean, not until after 
you're married." 

Yvonne snorted loudly. "Yeah, I get the picture." 

"I wanted to, but I just couldn't. There was one night, no, there were lots 
of nights when I almost did, but right at the last minute I'd hear mother's 
voice and I lost interest." 

Yvonne nodded. "It sounds like lots of mothers I know. They may have screwed 
their asses off when they were teenagers, but they don't want their 
daughters to do it. Some sort of moral retribution or whatever. Hell, I'm 
disgusted with people like that. Including your mother. I feel it's better 
to be open about things than brainwash someone until they're so full of 
guilt and misery that they never can enjoy sex, even after they're married. 
I know lots of couples like that. I mean, married, but still have a hang-up 
which stems from an overly strict upbringing. Maybe that's why I'm so free 
about things." 

Suzanne frowned and stared at her friend for a moment. 

"But how ... I mean, I don't understand how you can say you and Carole are 
lovers, and yet you can still go with men. You said last night you do." 

Yvonne nodded. "Yes, I do, sometimes. Like Jeff. I've shacked up with him a 
couple of times, but then he's one of the few men in my life that really 
turns me on. I mean, he's without a doubt the sexiest guy on campus. You've 
got to admit that. And what he does in bed is a whole chapter out of my 
diary. Oh, wow, that guy is something else again. He's got a body that won't 
quit and a cock that should become a national monument one of these days. 
Not that I'm hung up on big cocks, mind you," Yvonne added hastily. "But 
Jeff's is about the most beautiful piece of meat I've ever seen on any man, 
bar none." 

Suzanne giggled. "Is it as big as they say it is?" 

Yvonne reached for the ashtray and mashed her cigarette, erupting with a 
deep laugh at the same time. 

"So you're curious as well? I noticed the way you were watching him in 
Verne's the other day. I guess every chick at Wayne would like to know. 
Well, I'll tell you, my former vestal virgin. Jeff's cock is long. It's also 
rather thick. It has enough foreskin over the end to make drapes for this 
entire apartment. His balls could double on the pool table, and when that 
whole gorgeous area stands up to attention, I feel like a dog beside a 
fireplug; I just want to lift my legs and wrap myself around it. He really 
is quite incredible." 

Suzanne nodded. "That colored guy Clayton is big." 

"They say all colored studs are bigger'n white guys, but let me assure you, 
Jeff'd give the whole goddamn NAACP a run for its money. Also, I guess for 
me the most important thing about that adorable man's penis is the fact that 
it's very white, very smooth. No big veins like some. Just one big white 
lollipop waiting to be licked." Yvonne shifted in the bed and laughed again. 
"Jeez, I'd better stop this. I'm getting horny just thinking about him." 

Suzanne laughed. "I've often wanted to know Jeff better. I've only said 
hello a couple of times. But I know he lays just about any girl he can, and 
I felt it wasn't any use, you know, trying to know him, because I wouldn't 
go to bed with him." 

"But that was before, dear," said Yvonne crisply. "And now? Would you now?" 

Suzanne nodded slowly. "Maybe I would. I don't know for sure. I still love 
Sam, and he's the one I really want." 

Yvonne smiled. "Well, let me tell you something else, then. I love Carole. 
She's everything to me. But we've been together long enough to know that 
love is based on more than just sex. Which is why I'm able to shack up with 
some guy, or like last night, we're both able to have a little orgy with 
some other girl, and not let this get in the way of our feelings for each 
other. Sex is sex. To me, and to Carole, it's part of the scene, but not the 
most important. We can take it or leave it. We always take it, though, I 
assure you. And I've always believed in not having sex with someone just 
because you might feel like it at the time. Like with you, I've wanted to 
ball you ever since we met. But I got to know you, and I knew there'd be a 
right time. It's like every person: there's a right time, a right place, a 
right individual, and then everything fits. Everything comes out right, like 
last night. You enjoyed it, didn't you?" 

Suzanne nodded. "Of course I did. You know that." 

"Sure. And maybe we'll ball again. Who knows? And don't you go getting any 
romantic notions about me or Carole just because we had r a little pussy for 
late supper. It was something that was fun; it happened and it's over." 

"You sound so sensible about things," said Suzanne. "I wish I were. I'm 
still kinda confused, because ..." She hesitated. "You see, the way I 
suddenly became so sexy last night, it sorta scares me, looking back on it. 
I mean, now I feel I've done something very wrong. When the boys attacked 
me, that was different. They forced me. But last night, I did it because I 
wanted to. You understand? I really wanted to do everything we did, and even 
while I was doing it, I felt it was wrong, but I didn't care. Something 
stronger made me do it. And it was wonderful. But now I'm wondering: how 
about what I really feel? Do I want men? Do I want women? Oh, Yvonne, I feel 
so terrible." 

"Yes, yes, yes." Yvonne reached over and patted Suzanne on the shoulder. 
"You're only going through a delayed adolescence. Hell, you should have been 
behaving like this five years ago, but then you've got that mother of yours 
to thank for that. She should join Billy Graham instead of organizing tea 
parties for the Grosse Pointe Ladies' Club. Anyway, try not to feel guilty. 
Would you believe lots of girls, and men, too, will mess around like we did. 
It doesn't mean you're a dyke. It just means you let go because you'd been 
primed right. Jeff even told me once that he'd had a wild evening with some 
guys over on Forest Avenue at some house there. You know that big 
three-story one near Lincoln? They call it Homosexual Haven because of all 
the queens living there. Well, Jeff says he kinda hung one on over there, 
but that doesn't mean he's giving up girls. And what we did last night 
doesn't mean you're giving up boys. I'll bet the minute Sam gets back into 
town, you'll be rolling into bed with him so fast it'll make your boobs turn 
to jelly." 

Suzanne laughed. "Yeah, maybe so. Oh, Yvonne, you're so wonderful. I wish 
I'd gone to bed with you a year ago. Maybe I wouldn't be so screwed up right 
now." 

Yvonne pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "I wish we had, too, but then, 
like I said, these things always happen at the right time. Seriously, baby, 
you do have a problem with those little finks up the street." 

Suzanne felt a stab of terror as the memory returned, and her pleasant talk 
with Yvonne suddenly disappeared in a sea of apprehension. 

"Oh, dear, I'd almost forgotten." 

Yvonne laughed grimly. "Well, let me tell you, they'll probably be back. 
They know you're scared out of your wits, and the fact that they've laid you 
already only means they think they can do it again. So remember, don't open 
your door under any circumstances until you know who it is. And if for any 
reason they do get in, scream bloody murder." 

"I've been thinking maybe I should move." 

"No, that's only running away. It'll have to get pretty hairy before I'd 
advise that." 

Suzanne pondered a moment. "You know, the sad thing about it is I didn't 
think Donald was like that. In fact, I believe he'd be all right if it 
weren't for his brother and his influence. Ted's the bad one in that family. 
But Donald is a nice boy at heart." 

"Nice? He fucked you, too, didn't he?" 

"Yes, but... well, okay, so they all did, and it was pretty horrible, but at 
least I noted a different feeling with Donald. I mean, he's younger. He's 
got some tenderness in him." 

"You mean he had his tenderness in you, don't you?" 

"No, come off it. I mean, he's a good kid at heart, but he's been led 
astray. That's what I want to find out about this neighborhood, about the 
people who live here. Is it because they're bad themselves, which I don't 
believe, or is it the poverty, the misery they live in which makes them that 
way?" 

Yvonne sighed. "Listen, Miss Goodbody, you can't change the world. You've 
got to take it as it is. And those characters are all the same. They start 
fucking at six and they'd do it if they lived in Grosse Pointe or the 
Appalachians, where most of them come from, anyway. No, dear, there's some 
who just don't have the inborn reserve about sex that we expect. So don't 
waste your time with them. If you want to see them again, of course, that's 
a different matter." She giggled. "Maybe they're good sex. Were they? I 
mean, how big were their cocks?" 

Suzanne flushed. "Stop it." 

"No, I won't. Tell me. I mean, I know you don't have much basis for 
comparison, but you can tell; can't you? Like this Donald that you seem to 
be in a tizzy about. Was he as big as his brother, or the colored boy?" 

"No, he wasn't, but he was big, I'm sure, for his age. Ted was bigger, and 
Clayton was really big, and real thick, too." 

Yvonne laughed. "Like the three bears, huh? Momma, poppa and baby bear. Let 
me ask you something. Suppose they came back, no threats, no violence, but 
real nice, calm, reserved, and said how about it? Would you go to bed with 
any of them again from choice?" 

Suzanne flushed. "I don't ever want to see any of them again," she said. 

"You don't sound very positive about that." 

"Well, maybe Donald." 

Yvonne's laugh caused Carole's eyes to open, and she murmured, "Shut your 
hole, godammit, I'm trying to sleep." Suzanne smiled self-consciously. 

"He is kinda sweet," she murmured. "I like him." 

"You mean you like him because he's young, sexy, well-built, and has a big 
cock. Oh, dear, how typical can we get?" 

Yvonne reached for another cigarette, and inhaled deeply. 

"I'm willing to bet you do have sex with him again. Maybe with all three." 

"No, never." 

"Okay, okay, I was only kidding you. After all, dear, I know you're still 
pretty shook up over what happened, and there's no use sitting around moping 
about it. So I find it's often better to make a joke of things." 

"Well, that's no joke, believe me." 

"Okay. I'm sorry." 

Suzanne paused a moment, then giggled wickedly. 

""But if Donald comes back alone, and is nice to me, well, who knows?" "Oh, 
you little bitch!" 

They both broke into loud laughter, and Carole raised up and glared at them. 

"Son-of-a-bitch," she muttered. "Fuck all night and talk all day. Never a 
peaceful moment around here, that's for sure." She leaned over and kissed 
Yvonne lightly. "Good morning, love," she said warmly. 

Suzanne stared at the two girls, and for a moment envied their obvious 
closeness, their rapport, the feeling that they shared. 

"Good morning, Suzanne," said Carole, putting her hand over and squeezing 
her softly. "You okay today?" 

Suzanne nodded. Carole swung her legs out of the bed, stood up and 
stretched, yawning loudly. "I'll go put the coffee on," she said, moving 
towards the kitchen. 

Yvonne winked at Suzanne. "Just like a good little wife," she said coyly. 
"Come back here for a quickie, Carole." 

"Fuck you," came the voice from the kitchen, quite pleasantly. 

Yvonne laughed. "You know what a dyke with a hard-on looks like?" Suzanne 
shook her head, and Yvonne stuck her tongue out and held it there, 
projecting stiffly from her lips. Suzanne laughed, and Carole put her head 
round the door. 

"That broad's always got a hard-on," she commented. 

"With you around, can you blame me?" replied Yvonne casually, slipping out 
of bed and reaching for her robe. "Well, I'm going to take a healthy crap, 
if you'll excuse my French." 

She disappeared into the bathroom, and Suzanne lay back, staring across the 
room, and thinking how wonderful it would be to have a close friend to live 
with; maybe not for sex, but just for company. She envied Yvonne and Carole; 
their life together seemed so secure, so fulfilling. 

With a sigh, she sat up on the edge of the bed, put on her robe, and walked 
into the kitchen and sat down. Already the percolator had begun filling the 
air with a pungent aroma. She felt refreshed and cheerful. 

"I have a class at nine," she remarked, looking at the clock, which pointed 
to seven-fifteen. 

"You mean you want to bug out?" asked Carole, busily washing dishes at the 
sink. 

"No, I'll have some coffee, and then I'd better get back to my place and 
clean up." 

"Okay. You can eat here if you like. We've got plenty." 

Suzanne shook her head. "No, I'm not hungry. Some coffee'll be fine, though, 
thanks." 

She stared at the other girl, standing naked at the sink, and admired her 
figure, so slender, yet with such full breasts and wide hips, immeasurably 
feminine. There was no trace of embarrassment in her manner; it seemed so 
natural for her to be without clothes. In the back of her mind, Suzanne 
heard her mother's voice, echoing back from years before ... "A lady never 
goes around naked. Even your father's never seen me without something on. I 
believe in modesty, like every self-respecting woman." 

She smiled to herself. If only her mother could see her now, she thought. 

The front door closed behind her, and Suzanne locked it with a sigh of 
relief. Even though she knew it would be too early for any young man to have 
rape on his mind, she was taking no chances. She had had Yvonne scout the 
stairway before she left the apartment for her own, and once inside, the 
warm comforting glow she experienced with her friends began to disappear. 
She was once more alone; once more vulnerable. 

Stop it, she whispered to herself, walking into the bathroom and turning on 
the hot water faucets in the tub, there's no sense being ridiculous about 
it. The door's locked. You're safe. Maybe safe from physical harm for the 
moment, but what about her own fears? What about her own desires? Would she 
ever be safe from those? 

Impatiently Suzanne hung up her robe behind the bathroom door and reached 
for her toothbrush. Energetically she attacked her teeth, scrubbing harder 
than usual, as if through the act she would help chase the feeling gnawing 
at her stomach, aching in her loins. Yes, she couldn't deny it. Coupled with 
the fright was the deep desire for something to happen again, something that 
would help mature her burgeoning sexuality, help make it blossom to its 
fullest so she could no longer think of herself as a girl but as a woman, 
filled with all the passionate responses a woman should have, able to handle 
any situation where a man (or a woman) was concerned. Yes, it wasn't just 
sex with men now; it was sex, plain and not so simple. It was the tiger let 
loose in the jungle of her pubic hair. 

She turned off the water and eased herself into the tub, letting her body 
slide beneath the warm water, savoring the sensual pleasure of the splashing 
against her skin, vitalizing her vagina again with erotic desire and 
bringing her breasts once more to erection. It was true; as her fingers 
rubbed over her magnificent orbs, she felt the nipples firm beneath her 
touch. Jeez, had she turned into a raving sex maniac? 

She closed her eyes, and with the soap in one hand she slicked her other and 
rubbed herself, carefully, sensually. Her fingers massaged her breasts and 
nipples, and her mind fled back to Yvonne's soft caresses the night before. 
Mentally she felt Yvonne's fingers on her body, Yvonne's softness exciting 
her to a fever pitch of desire. Her groin tingled with the rising tide of 
sexual arousal, and slowly she let her fingers slide down, across her 
stomach, and come to rest in her bush, pushing her labia open and reaching 
their final goal. 

She felt the electric thrill as her finger touched her clitoris, already 
hard and throbbing. She gripped it, caressed it, rubbed the shaft, pinched 
it, and her hips began undulating gently. In her mind she remembered 
Carole's tongue paying homage to her pussy, bringing her even greater 
delights than the hard prick which had cruelly defiled her earlier. But had 
it been that cruel? Had Donald really hurt her that much? He may have scared 
her, being stronger and holding her down, but once he had slipped that 
lovely long cock into her eager pulsating pussy, had it been that bad? She 
had to admit honestly it hadn't; she had loved it. She relished the thought 
of it cramming deep into her depths, its thickness pushing aside her 
cunt-lips, probing her vagina and sending shivers of excitement up to the 
mouth of her womb. Deeper ... deeper, Donald ... let me have it all, let me 
have that rod, all the way. 

Suzanne's fingers were pushing in and out of her wet, warm cavern, the 
tantalizing sensations only made greater by the warm water lapping around 
her body, licking at her breasts as they almost floated on top of the 
surface. Her hips were moving quicker and quicker, making waves that only 
stimulated every inch of her skin, making her wish Donald were there, his 
tongue licking her all over. Not only Donald, but Ted and Clayton, all three 
of them, their hands, tongues and cocks all dragging over her, pushing into 
every crevice, bringing her the greatest delight she was capable of 
experiencing. Yes, yes, all of them; all those three wonderful cocks, all 
together, all pushing into her. Yes, two cocks up her twat, the third up her 
asshole. She was being fucked by them all at the same time. She slid one 
hand between her buttocks and pushed a finger into her anus. Oh, Jeez, she 
couldn't stand it. The sensations were mounting. Her asshole was on fire. 
Her twat was oozing her juices. Her breasts were going to explode. Higher 
and higher... quicker and quicker ... rub that clitoris, up and down, pinch 
it, squeeze it... fuck me, fuck me ... Donald ... deeper. Ted, quicker.. 
Clayton, give that lovely big black piece of meat to me. All of it, plunging 
deep into me. Oh, yes, yes.... 

With a strangled cry, Suzanne's body heaved, sending large splashes of water 
up the sides of the tub, spilling over onto the floor as she convulsed and 
felt her orgasm mounting, shaking her entire body, and from her mouth came 
little animal moans of ecstasy. 

Slowly the feeling receded, and she lay still, her fingers still 
manipulating her flesh slowly, gently as the waves of emotion receded, 
becoming still as the waves in the bathtub. She opened her eyes and stared 
down at herself. Oh, Christ, that was wonderful. It wasn't just the physical 
orgasm; it was the thought that perhaps it might have been those boys again. 
Yes, again, again. She wanted then again, loathful, hateful, hurting; but 
she wanted them. Oh, God, what was she going to do? What would she do when 
they came knocking at her door again, and something told her they were 
coming. They would be there, all three of them, panting, with enormous 
hard-ons sticking out of their pants, those lovely shafts of gleaming meat, 
two white, one black, each throbbing with anticipation, eager to sink into 
her unresisting body. 

Biting her lip, Suzanne climbed out of the tub and reached for a towel. As 
she stood in front of the mirror, she stared at herself, filled with 
loathing that she had allowed herself to be so carried away. What was 
happening to her? Did all girls go through this when they first found out 
about sex? She looked at her body. It was the same as it had been a week 
before. There was no difference. Her eyes lifted, taking in her crotch, her 
breasts, and then she looked at her face, at the smooth round cheeks, the 
slightly upturned nose, the wide, sensual mouth, and her eyes, staring back 
at her with a new expression, a new awareness of her womanhood. And in that 
glance, she knew she had forever lost her innocence; her childhood lay 
buried under a sea of come that spurted out of a large, jerking penis while 
she stood beside it, hugging it with her arms, crying because it was too big 
to take, and all she could do was hug it and cry, "Fuck me, fuck me!" 

With a shudder, Suzanne walked into the living room and over to the closet. 
As she slowly got dressed, she knew it was going to be a difficult day, yet 
ten minutes later, as she bounced gaily down the stairs and out into the 
sunshine, she smiled to herself and hummed a tune. Come on, things weren't 
so bad, really; and what was so wrong about letting oneself go? 

"Hi, Suzanne, how are you today?" 

It was her slovenly landlady, calling out from the door of her apartment. 

"Fine, thanks, and you?" 

"Oh, I'm okay. Lovely day, isn't it?" 

"Sure is." 

She ran out the building and up the sidewalk, suddenly realizing she only 
had seven minutes to make her class. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

The voice of the psychology instructor droned on, and Suzanne stared blankly 
up at the podium, only catching an occasional word he said. She had always 
liked her psychology class, not only because of the instructor who happened 
to be rather handsome, but because of her interest in the subject in 
relations to her project with the poorer classes in the neighborhood. Yet 
today she found her interest wandering, her mind too filled with other 
thoughts. 

She suddenly became aware he was addressing her. 

"I'm sorry," she apologized, feeling very foolish. "I didn't catch that." 
The instructor smiled. 

"I was saying that many people are under the impression that the poorer 
classes are more sexually active because it is the one entertainment that 
costs them nothing. Have you found anything in your recent studies to 
substantiate this theory?" 

Suzanne flushed, and in her -mind she saw again the three boys, naked in her 
living room, and her own body heaving beneath their attack. 

"Er ... well..." she began, "I really haven't done enough research yet. But 
it sounds reasonable, don't you think?" 

The instructor smiled. "Not necessarily. Statistics show that there is just 
as much promiscuity among the more affluent classes. I personally do not 
think that poverty necessarily means a higher rate of sexual activity. After 
all, individual sex drives are not predicated on economic status. However, 
the illegitimate birth rate among the poor seems to indicate that they 
perhaps do not have as much regard for the consequences of their actions, 
and do not invest in contraceptive devices to the same degree as the rich. 
One of the tragedies of the lower income groups is their unusually high 
family size, which only compounds their unfortunate economic position." 

A student raised his hand. 

"Perhaps the poor indulge in large families as a gesture of accomplishment," 
he said. "It is the one function they can perform without training. It's 
like they feel they might not be able to work their way up to a position of 
social eminence, or professional respectability, so they prove themselves 
biologically instead of intellectually." 

The instructor laughed. "Interesting, but I don't think valid, in view of 
research. Most economically deprived fathers are more interested in 
satisfying their sex drive than their urge for social recognition." 

The young man was not to be put off. 

"What about the kids, though?" he persisted. "I've talked to some who feel 
they've really made it when they can ball a rich chick instead of someone in 
their own neighborhood. And there're lots of girls from Grosse Pointe who'll 
go with a guy from a poor neighborhood because of the kicks involved. You 
know, the idea of slumming, of being manhandled forcibly to satisfy some 
masochistic tendency." 

"Ah." The instructor raised his eyebrows. "That's something else again. 
True, many women will achieve greater sexual satisfaction from a violent 
sexual encounter rather than the more refined or sophisticated approach. And 
presuming that a young man from a rough neighborhood will be more sexually 
aggressive, there is the sadistic impulse to prove himself with a girl from 
a more refined background. And some girls will often enjoy such encounters 
out of a perverse streak in their nature, the desire to be degraded out of 
guilt for their affluent upbringing." 

Suzanne felt a slow flush creeping up her neck, and. then her face was 
scarlet, and she dropped her eyes, hoping that no one would notice or 
comment. Inside her, she recognized her own reactions, the feeling she had 
that morning in the bathtub as she visualized herself being violated by the 
three boys. Despite the fear, there had been a strong element of earthy 
satisfaction from the experience. She had enjoyed it, and she knew she would 
want it to happen again. Maybe not under the same frightening conditions, 
but definitely the physical reactions she found more than usually 
stimulating. And she knew it was because the boys were different from any 
she had socialized with before. Her Grosse Pointe boyfriends were 
knowledgeable in the social graces; their speech and manners were 
sophisticated; their enforced respect of her was a barrier to the type of 
harsh physical manhandling she had endured the last two days in her 
apartment. And yet despite their lack of refinement, they had touched a 
pagan spark buried deep within her, a spark now flaring with a consuming 
passion that excited her responses at the very thought of it happening 
again. 

"Tell me, Suzanne, you have made contact with one family, I believe?" The 
instructor was addressing her again. Oh, God, she hoped no one would observe 
her flushed condition. 

She nodded. 

"There have been young men in the family?" 

"Yes, two brothers," she replied, a little hesitantly. "One is sixteen, I 
think, the other about two years older." 

"Have you felt any desire on their part to deepen their contact with you, 
maybe an indelicate suggestion, or have they been keeping their distance?" 

She flushed. "I ... I wouldn't let them..." she began, and the instructor 
cut her short. 

"I'm not intimating that you would," he said brusquely. "But you can tell 
whether there might be the desire on their part." 

"I would think that perhaps they might," she said slowly. "But on every 
occasion I have talked with them while their mother was present. They're not 
particularly well educated, though the younger one seems to have some 
promise. I feel he shows more potential than his older brother, who's just a 
little hood, I'd say." 

The instructor smiled. "Thank you, Suzanne. We'll be interested in hearing 
more when you've completed your study of this family." 

Suzanne smiled, and looked down at her books again. She felt humiliated at 
even having to discuss the boys, yet she knew it was only her conscience 
bothering her; no one knew about what had happened. No one but Yvonne and 
Carole, and she knew they wouldn't talk. 

The class ended, and she stumbled to the door, thankful to get out of the 
close confines of the room and out into the fresh air. She took a deep 
breath and began walking back to her apartment. She saw Carole in the 
distance, and they waved at each other. Then as she turned the corner on to 
Hancock, she saw a familiar figure in blue jeans and a dirty shirt, lounging 
against the concrete abutment surrounding the campus. Her heart almost 
stopped, but she continued walking, biting her lips in fear. 

"Hi, Suzanne," said Donald, his young face breaking into a broad smile. "You 
okay today?" 

"Yes, but no thanks to you," she snapped, walking past him. He fell into 
step with her, and she glared at him. 

"Donald, if you don't leave me alone, I'm going to call the police," she 
said uncertainly. "And what's more, I'll speak to your mother about what's 
happened." 

Donald giggled. "That won't help. Ted's already told her we screwed you." 

"He ... he what?" she gasped, stopping in her tracks and staring at him 
disbelievingly. 

"S'true. He doesn't care." 

"And you do, I suppose?" 

He paused awkwardly. 

"I ... I like you, Suzanne. You know that, don't you? I'm really sorry about 
everything, but I still like you. I'd like to do it again with you, just you 
and me, nice and quiet." 

"You're a degenerate, like your brother," she snapped heatedly. "So don't 
try and sweet talk me now." She paused, her chest heaving with emotion. 
"What did your mother say?" 

Donald laughed. "She said he'd better watch out, that was all. She doesn't 
care. She's too busy makin' out with her own boyfriends. She fucks around 
quite a bit." 

Suzanne gasped. "In your house? With you boys there?" 

"Sure. What's wrong with that?" 

"Well, if you don't know, there's no sense telling you," said Suzanne, 
pushing past him. "Goodbye, Donald, and don't try to follow me. I never want 
to see you again." 

He stood still, looking at her retreating form walking quickly up the 
sidewalk. 

"Hey." 

She stopped, and looked back. 

"See ya." He waved and grinned at her. With beating heart, Suzanne turned 
and almost ran the rest of the way back to her apartment. She let herself 
in, slammed the door, and locked it. Then she collapsed on the couch, her 
body shaking. 

Oh, God, she murmured to herself, oh God, what'll I do if they come back? 
She closed her eyes and rested until her heart had quieted down and her 
limbs had stopped shaking. 

The gall of that boy! And telling their mother what they had done. What sort 
of people were they? Were they completely lacking in moral scruples? Had 
they no sense of decency at all? And yet he had confessed he liked her and 
wanted to be with her again, just the two of them. She was right. She had 
sensed a quality of tenderness in him before, and she knew that taken away 
from his brother, his mother and his environment, Donald could well shape 
into a worthwhile man. But did she care? Did she really care what happened 
to this teenage rapist Who had forced himself upon her in much the same 
fashion as his brother and the colored boy? No, she didn't; but she couldn't 
deny the response she felt in her loins for him. 

She was reminded of Yvonne's frank discussion about Jeff, about men's sex 
appeal and the size of their organs. Donald's penis was definitely appealing 
to her. Unlike the gross size and thickness of his brother, or Clayton's 
massive dark-skinned shaft, Donald's penis was smooth, white and 
sensual-looking. While he might not have displayed as much animal ferocity 
as the others, he had a technique which she found immensely satisfying, and 
the penetration of his organ was infinitely fulfilling for her. If she could 
only get Donald away from the others, away from his present environment... 
Suzanne shook her head and sat up, wiping her eyes. This was ridiculous, she 
thought; it was Sam she really wanted. Sam was the man of her dreams, the 
one she loved, and so what was this perverse fantasy over a slum boy whose 
only appeal lay in the seven inches of hard flesh he projected between his 
legs? Sam had just as much, she felt sure, and Sam would certainly be 
tender, gentle and when aroused, probably just as forcefully aggressive to 
appeal to her animal instincts. Yes, Sam it was; not Donald. But when the 
hell was he coming home? Oh, Sam, Sam. . . 

She walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her burning face. 
She patted herself dry, and felt better. She went over to the desk, opened 
her books, and began to study. 

The sun had just dipped below the skyline when Suzanne realized she had been 
sitting at her desk for several hours, absorbed in her work. The clatter of 
footsteps on the stairs broke into her thoughts, and she felt a pang of 
apprehension until she realized it must be a woman; the noise of heels was 
unmistakable. 

"Hey, Suzanne, you home?" 

Carole's cheerful voice rang out, and Suzanne walked quickly over to the 
door, unlocked it, and let the girl in. 

"Wow, I'm bushed," she said, collapsing on the couch as Suzanne closed the 
door and locked it again. "How are you feeling today?" 

Suzanne grinned. "Oh, I'm fine." 

"Any sign of those monsters?" 

"No, but I ran into Donald on campus. He must've been waiting to talk to me. 
He said he wanted us to ball again, just him and me." 

Carole snorted. "I hope you kicked him right in the crotch." 

"No, I told him if he didn't stop bothering me, I'd call the police. But you 
know something? I threatened to tell his mother, and he said Ted had already 
told what happened, and the woman wasn't fazed at all. Can you beat that?" 

Carol shrugged. "Typical. These mothers are nothing but legalized whores. 
I've yet to meet one that has any semblance of dignity or decency. It's sad, 
it really is. I guess they're not much better than animals. It's a pity they 
can't be segregated somewhere away from the rest of us who know how to live 
a clean life." 

Suzanne giggled. "Maybe so, but then there're some who might say the same 
about you and Yvonne." 

Carole's eyes widened. "Oh, knock it off!" she exploded. "You're mixing 
apples and pears. Don't tell me you put me in the same category?" 

"Of course not," said Suzanne quickly. "I was just trying to be objective." 

Carole sniffed. "After last night, you have no basis for being objective, 
dear," she commented softly. She stared at Suzanne for a moment. "You're 
terribly nice, you know. In bed, I mean." 

"Thanks. I can use a few compliments." They both laughed, and Carole lit a 
cigarette. 

"Jeez, I really am tired. Two classes today, and an interview about a 
part-time job." 

"Tell you what," said Suzanne. "Why don't you and Yvonne have dinner here 
with me tonight? I've got a whole mess of stuff in the refrigerator. Come 
on, I'd love to." 

Carole smiled. "Oh, you certainly know the right things to say at the right 
time," she murmured. "It's a deal. Yvonne'll be home soon. You plan to eat 
early? I'm actually starved." 

"Whenever you want," replied Suzanne, moving into the kitchen. "I'll start 
right away." 

"Okay," said Carole, rising. "I'll go clean up and put on my robe, and when 
Yvonne gets home, we'll come up. Okay?" 

She went over to the door. "Hey, Suzanne, come and lock the door behind me." 
She giggled as Suzanne came into the room. "We don't want any unwanted 
company, now, do we?" 

"You bet." 

Suzanne locked the door behind her, and went back into the kitchen, humming 
to herself. She felt her spirits rising at the prospect of company. She 
remembered her thoughts the night before, seeing the closeness between 
Yvonne and Carole. Well, if she didn't have a roommate, at least she'd be 
having some good company, and she looked forward to a good dinner with 
pleasant conversation and afterwards ... Suzanne grinned to herself 
wickedly. Who knows? She thought maybe afterwards they might all roll into 
bed again. It was fun, she had to admit; it was real fun, and wonderful sex. 
Just at the thought, she felt a twinge within her and a tingle in her loins. 
Yes, it just might be a wonderful evening again. She licked her lips in 
anticipation. 

Efficiently she took a canned ham off the shelf, opened it, and placed it in 
a casserole, covering it with a small can of sliced peaches and a few 
cloves. She popped it into the oven, and then paused a moment, looking at 
the boxes of frozen vegetables in the freezer compartment. She decided on 
peas and cauliflower and broke open the packages, placing the vegetables 
together in one large pan, filling it with water and placing it on the top 
burner. What about dessert? She had half a layer cake over. Cake and ice 
cream, she thought. Easy and appealing. Fine. That's what it would be. 

By the time Yvonne and Carole clattered up the stairs from their apartment, 
both in their robes and slippers, Suzanne had changed her clothes herself, 
put on her terrycloth robe, and had laid the table for three. The twilight 
outside had given way to darkness, and the apartment had a warm, cozy 
atmosphere that soothed her nerves. She felt they were going to have a nice 
pleasant meal and a relaxing evening together afterwards. 

"Hi, doll," said Yvonne, coming over and giving her a squeeze around the 
waist. "I hear you're playing cook tonight?" 

"Uh-huh. And I hope you'll like it." 

"Anything's fine, boobsy, tonight I could eat a horse," said Yvonne, 
flopping into a chair and reaching for her cigarettes. "Carole tells me you 
met one of the kids today." 

"Yes. I told him to get the hell away from me." 

"Good for you. I still think they'll try and see you again, so be careful." 

"I am. That front door's locked and it's going to stay that way. If I hear 
them outside, I'm calling the police." 

"Now you're talking. Say, I had a wild idea today. I thought maybe I could 
get three well-built guys over here some night and hide them in the 
bathroom, and then you invite those little bastards over, and they'd get a 
beating they wouldn't forget. I know a few guys who'd get a beating they 
wouldn't forget. I know a few guys who'd love to avenge your sullied virtue. 
Jeff for one, I'm sure." 

Suzanne grinned. "It sounds great, but I'd rather let well enough alone. You 
know something, though..." She paused a moment, and giggled. "I was thinking 
about Donald. On his own, he wouldn't be bad to take. I mean, he does have a 
real nice face, and his body's well-built, and..." 

"And his cock's gorgeous, I know, I know," Yvonne interrupted her. "Listen, 
you horny little sex maniac, he may have been great when he finally got with 
it, but that doesn't mean you're to start anything going with a tramp like 
that. If you're horny, I've got plenty of guys who'd just love to come over 
and screw you. To say nothing of Carole and me, incidentally." 

"Don't worry, I'm not thinking about it," Suzanne said soberly. "But I just 
feel sorry for him. He could be a real nice kid, away from that family and 
the neighborhood." 

"Well, you keep your altruistic feelings for those who deserve them," said 
Carole. "You're not out of the woods yet, remember. If you have your period, 
you can breathe easily. Oh, by the way, did you go to a doctor?" 

Suzanne shook her head. "No, I figured between Yvonne's douche powder and 
all that hot water, I'm probably okay." 

"Oh, well, so be it," said Carole. 

"She's okay," snapped Yvonne. "That stuff I gave her'd kill anything. 
Besides do you think I'd have messed around with her last night if I thought 
she had something?" 

Suzanne reached into the oven and took out the ham. 

"Mmm, that smells divine," said Carole. "Are we eating now?" 

"We sure are. Gather round." 

Within minutes, they were all settled round the table, helping themselves to 
the spread of ham, vegetables and steaming hot coffee. Yvonne looked at 
Suzanne and smiled affectionately. 

"Anyone who can whomp up a dinner like this deserves to be married," she 
said softly. "Sam's a lucky guy." 

Suzanne smiled happily. "I hope you're right. I just hope he gets back soon. 
I'm ready for him now. Oh, God, am I ready!" 

The last plate had been washed and put away, and they relaxed in the living 
room, each with another cup of coffee. Carole closed her eyes and sighed 
contentedly. 

"Oh, that was wonderful. You don't know how I appreciate it, Suzanne. I was 
in no mood to cook." 

"It was good, wasn't it?" said Suzanne. "Ham's one of my favorites, and it's 
so easy to fix, too." 

"Was it a kosher ham, dear?" asked Yvonne evilly, and they all laughed. 
"Which reminds me," she continued, inhaling deeply from her ever-present 
cigarette. "I went with this kosher guy once. You know, I do believe there's 
a difference in having sex with a circumcised guy and one who's not." 

"Yvonne!!" 

Carole's voice exploded across the room. 

"Relax, I'm just reminiscing," she said imperturbably. "But I have found 
when they've had something cut off their cock, they don't seem as 
aggressive. Maybe I'd feel the same way if I had half my tits removed." 

"If you had half your tits removed, dear," said Carole calmly. "You could 
join the men's swimming team." 

"Bitch!" 

Suzanne laughed, enjoying the pleasant banter between them, their obvious 
affection showing through the exchange of insults. 

"When I've had your experience, darling, then maybe I can pass judgment," 
said Yvonne. "I guess I'd better keep my mouth shut. But you know me and 
sex. It's my favorite subject." 

She mashed her cigarette out and looked in the package. 

"Oh, damn, I'm out. Carole..." 

"Hm..." 

"Be a doll and run down to our place and get me a new pack. They're on the 
dresser." 

Carole sighed, and slowly got to her feet. 

"What's in it for me, huh?" 

Yvonne smirked. "I'll be extra sexy tonight. I may even use the dildo on 
you." 

"Thanks a lot." 

"Come on, Suzanne, I'll help you wash the coffee cups," said Yvonne, 
gathering them and moving to the kitchen. 

She and Suzanne walked into the kitchen as Carole unlocked the front door 
and left the apartment. 

"I love the way you two bitch at each other," remarked Suzanne as they stood 
by the sink. "I never dreamed you were as close. I mean, I never though two 
girls could get that way, you know what I mean?" 

Yvonne nodded. 

"Yup. We have our knock-down-drag-outs but as a rule, we get along pretty 
well. You see..." Her voice softened... "We love each other. That makes a 
big difference. You can put up with a little shit once in a while because 
the other times make up for it. And believe me, I know 

I'm not easy to live with." 

Suzanne turned the faucet on full-blast and rinsed the cups and saucers. 
Above the noise, she heard Yvonne say something. 

"Sorry, I didn't hear you," she said, turning off the water and reaching for 
the dishtowel. 

"I said: you'll find out when you start living with Sam." 

Suzanne giggled. "You mean marry him or live with him?" 

"Either. Though I suspect you'll probably live with him for a while now. 
After all, it's good to try the merchandise before buying." 

"You're goddamn right, sister!" 

They both whirled, and standing in the doorway was Ted. Behind him, his 
white teeth splitting his black face from ear to ear, was Clayton, and next 
to him Donald. 

Suzanne felt a scream welling up inside her, and before she could utter a 
sound Yvonne's voice boomed out. 

"You mother-fuckers get the hell out of here." 

From the living room they heard Carole's footsteps on the stairs, and Yvonne 
shouted out. 

"Carole, run. Get the police." 

Clayton turned, and they heard his footsteps across the living room, and 
Carole's scream. A moment later he dragged her inside, and the front door 
slammed behind them. The click of the lock as Clayton turned it sounded like 
an explosion. 

"Now, chicky-babies, it's time for dessert," said Clayton, his dark eyes 
staring humorously around them. 

"Oh, God," whispered Suzanne. "We forgot the door." 

"You sure did," said Ted. "But that wouldn't have stopped us." 

They stared at each other. Suzanne had backed away, and Yvonne stood, her 
hands on her hips, her face a picture of contempt. Carole, pinned in 
Clayton's strong arm, his hand over her mouth, was struggling violently. 

"You better calm down, baby, or you'll feel my hand real hard," he said 
softly. Her eyes widened and she stopped moving. 

"Thass better," said Clayton. "And now I guess we can have our little party. 
It sure's gonna be nice this way." He turned to Ted and grinned. "There's 
one for each of us now. Oh, baby, there's nothin' better'n an orgy." 

Yvonne opened her mouth and the beginnings of a scream emerged, but Ted 
stepped forward, and with a quick movement he belted her across the cheek. 
She staggered back against the wall. 

"You get the message?" he drawled. "Now listen here. No one's gonna get 
hurt, as long as you spread your legs. Okay?" He stared at Suzanne. "Hi, 
there. How's that hot little cunt tonight?" 

Suzanne was petrified. She found she couldn't move. Her voice had 
disappeared. Inside her she felt her heart pounding so hard she thought she 
was going to faint. Finally, a whispered plea emerged from her lips. 

"Please ... oh, please..." 

Clayton's booming laugh echoed around the room. 

"You see, jest like I said she would: she's pleading for it again. Oh, baby, 
and you're gonna git it, every inch of it right up that nice white pussy. 
And that's only for starters." 

Ted reached out and grabbed Suzanne's wrist, jerking her forward. Numbly she 
let herself be pushed into the living room. Clayton heaved Carole into 
Donald's waiting arms, and closed his long thick fingers around Yvonne's 
arm. 

"Come on, baby, let's get this show on the road." 

"You take your filthy hands off me," snapped Yvonne. "You goddamn nigger." 

Clayton's eyebrows rose, and his mouth grinned evilly. 

"Oh, oh, sounds like another Grosse Pointer," he said. "Or mebbe from 
Dearborn? Well, baby, you're gonna find out it doesn't rub off." 

He dragged her into the living room, where Donald was holding Carole and Ted 
was gripping Suzanne. The boys all looked at one another. 

"Okay, last one in's a cocksucker," said Clayton, and with one hand he 
seized Yvonne's robe and ripped it down, leaving her standing naked, her 
eyes flashing at him with hate. She opened her mouth, but before she could 
scream his hand had belted her violently, and she fell to the floor. 

"Like I said, no noise, no trouble," said Clayton. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Afterwards, Suzanne remembered something Yvonne had said to her, long before 
she moved to the Wayne Campus. They had been talking about relations with 
boys, and Yvonne had made the comment: "When rape is inevitable, relax and 
enjoy it." 

As she watched Yvonne's robe being torn away from her body, she realized 
that there was no sense on trying to resist any longer. The young men were 
going to get what they came for, and any resistance would only make it 
worse. Her only thought was that Donald at least had shown a little more 
consideration than his brother, who was holding her tightly, his one hand 
squeezing her breast through her robe. 

She turned to him, and looked up imploringly. "Can we choose partners?" she 
asked timidly. 

Ted stared at her and guffawed. "Well, whad-dya know?" he said. "So who's 
your choice?" 

Suzanne's eyes went over to Donald, who had been staring at her longingly, 
despite his arms around Carole. He caught the glance and responded. 

"Donald," she whispered. "I want Donald." Carole's eyes flashed, and Yvonne 
spoke up loudly. 

"You little bitch," she spat out. "You don't want Donald. You probably want 
'em all, you whore." 

Suzanne flushed, shaken by the viciousness of the words. Donald pushed 
Carole forward to Ted's waiting hands, and came over to seize Suzanne, 
closing his lips over hers and pressing her close to his body. She felt his 
sex, already half-hard through his pants, and then his hands were fumbling 
with her robe, pulling it off her. She felt a welling-up of desire in her 
groin as his fingers caressed her bare back, and his mouth on hers had 
already begun its erotic arousal. 

Clayton had undone his pants, which fell to the floor. His one hand held 
Yvonne, while the other freed his legs from the jeans. His penis, beginning 
to rise, projected from between his dark brown thighs, angry and 
aggressive-looking. Yvonne stared down at it, and she set her lips in a thin 
line. 

Ted's hands had torn away Carole's robe, and he was busily sucking her 
breasts. It had happened so quickly, almost all at the same time, Suzanne 
realized afterwards. She remembered Yvonne's words of wisdom: kick 'em in 
the crotch; scream; run; do anything but don't give in. She realized now how 
so many rape cases occurred; logic and reason disappear beneath the 
incredible fear that paralyzes the mind and renders the body incapable. 

Her pronouncement over her preference for Donald had been predicated by her 
instinct that the boy would treat her better than either of the other two. 
And if it was going to happen, she reasoned, why not let it be with the one 
she felt something for? At least she did feel something for Donald, while 
Ted and Clayton aroused only fearful aversion within her, despite her 
perverse thoughts about being penetrated by Clayton's massive tool. 

Ted was dragging Carole over towards the couch, his one hand clawing at his 
belt and his fly. By the time he pushed her down, his penis had sprung 
forth, erect and jerking in the air, eager to sink into her yielding form. 
Clayton was on the floor with Yvonne, covering her body with his own and 
pushing his penis slowly and inexorably up between her thighs towards its 
ultimate goal. 

Suzanne clung to Donald and whispered in his ear, "Be gentle. Be nice." He 
looked into her eyes. "Remember, I like you," he said quietly, and then 
their lips met with incredible passion, and she felt him undoing his shirt 
and his pants. In a few minutes he was naked, and they were lying on the 
floor, his legs on top of her own, his arms holding her shoulders and his 
mouth on hers, their tongues wildly licking each other's lips and mouths. 
Suzanne felt her breasts responding to the rubbing of his chest, their 
nipples firm as marbles. Her vagina was oozing her juices, and her canal 
trembled with desire. For the moment, the fear was gone; she seemed even 
unaware of what was happening to the others. She was only conscious of the 
boy on top of her, holding her firmly yet tenderly, while his penis grew to 
rigid excitement between her legs, expanding to its total length and 
thickness, oozing lube from its wide cockslit in readiness for its final 
thrust into her. 

Vaguely she heard Carole's angry mutterings and Yvonne's throaty protests, 
but she couldn't care at that moment. If it was going to happen, she 
intended enjoying it to the fullest. The tiger in her loins sprang free; 
inhibition flew out the window; the little girl from Grosse Pointe was once 
more the rabid sexual-ist eager for every pleasure her body could give, and 
receive. 

"Oh, wow, is this something!" 

"Good tits, lookit them tits." 

"Good pussy, baby, good pussy." 

The living room resounded to the obscene grunts and comments of the three 
boys as they each concentrated on their particular pleasure, calling each 
other's attention to their achievements and methods. 

"Git yo' rocks off quick," said Clayton throatily, " 'Cos then we'se really 
gonna have some fun." 

Oh, God, thought Suzanne, it's all my fault. I've brought this mess on 
Yvonne and Carole. If it hadn't been for my telling them, they'd have never 
been involved like this. And now they were all going to get it. 

Donald's hands began feeling her nipples, and her regrets faded away beneath 
the rising waves of sensation that engulfed her. She moaned and felt her 
body responding, grinding against him, and her hands clawed at his smooth 
back. Her nails dug in and he flinched beneath her pressure. His teeth 
descended on her nipples, biting gently, grinding back and forth and sending 
stabs of delight through her body. She felt her vagina contract, hot, wet 
and aching with desire. His penis, rock-hard, slid up between her legs, and 
the head touched her bush, pushing between the pulsating lips and into her, 
thrusting past her clitoris and into her canal. 

She groaned, and then the animal in her came to the surface and she 
whispered in his ear, "Deeper, deeper, oh, God, fuck me, Donald, fuck me." 
And he sank all the way, with the head of his cock all the way to the 
opening of her womb, filling her vagina with the most exquisite sensations. 
She began moving her hips, thrashing under him, gripping his shaft as he 
plunged in and out, quivering from the delirious ecstasy that was coursing 
through his limbs. He moaned, "Suzanne, Suzanne, good pussy, baby, tighter, 
tighter," and his lips went wild over her skin, licking her shoulders, her 
neck, her ears, her breasts, thrilling her even more as they blended their 
bodies, settling down to a slow, steady rhythm that gradually increased with 
their passion. 

Behind her head, Suzanne was vaguely aware of the deep, heavy breathing as 
Clayton rammed his rod into Yvonne, her legs spread apart, her mouth shut 
tight, stubbornly refusing to give vent to any expression of appreciation. 
But the colored boy continued his fucking, ignoring her lack of response, 
conscious only of the tightness of her canal around his thick shaft, and the 
exquisite sensations that were lifting him higher and higher as he moved his 
hips with monotonous regularity. 

Ted was supporting himself on his arms, watching as he slid his prick in and 
out of Carole's mouth, while he pinned her down with his hands and his 
knees. She had quit struggling and was submitting to the inevitable, awkward 
as it was to encompass Ted's enormously thick cock within her mouth. "Lick 
it, lick it," he kept saying. "Get it ready for fucking." 

Suzanne found her ears resounding to the combined grunts, moans and gasps of 
breath from the boys and from herself and the girls. The room seemed to 
vibrate with their combined thrusting, in, out, up, down, each one 
concentrating on the achievement of the ultimate ecstasy, the most 
pleasurable climax. 

She felt a surge of deep longing for Donald's penis to bury itself even 
deeper within her. With an agile movement, she lifted her legs, wrapped them 
around his waist, and pulled his shoulders closer to her. He moaned and felt 
his rod probe even more, and she gasped as she felt the broad, thick head 
touch the opening to her womb, and she pictured its smooth red surface 
pulsating as her own flesh enclosed it tightly, squeezing it tantalizingly, 
pushing him even higher than he was, floating on clouds as their bodies 
seemed to leave the floor. 

"Oh, Donald, Donald," she cried out. "Fuck me deeper, fuck me deeper." 

From behind her she heard a muffled gasp, and then Yvonne's voice rang out, 
"Like I said, a goddamn little whore, begging for it. You bitch!" 

Suzanne didn't care. She was too thrilled with the ecstasy that suffused her 
loins, enchanted by the smoothness of the boy's skin, his flawless 
complexion and handsome young face above her own, his muscular arms that 
held her, and his virile stiff throbbing penis which was impaling her with 
such force and such tenderness at the same time. She could tell he wasn't 
ramming into her the way the others had done. He was enjoying every second 
of it, but conscious that her pleasure was also important. He would push his 
cock in, hold it there, twisting it and turning it, and she felt his pubic 
bone rub her clitoris, sending chills through her, combining with the deeper 
penetration of his shaft. She knew it wasn't from experience, but merely an 
instinctive desire to please her, the way he manipulated himself within her; 
his licking of her body, her breasts, her mouth, were also filled with a 
hungry yearning for her satisfaction as well as his own. She knew when she 
and Sam finally made it, it would be like this; not merely animal sex, but a 
feeling of warmth and tenderness as well. 

"Oh, Donald," she moaned. "It feels wonderful." 

"You, too," he replied, and her vagina responded with even greater 
contractions around his shaft. 

"Oh, oh, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," he moaned quickly. "Oh, Jeez, I 
don't wanna, not now. Easy, easy. Stop, stop." He held his penis deep within 
her, and ceased any motion, but Suzanne couldn't stop. She had felt the 
beginnings of her own climax, and she wanted it then; she manipulated her 
hips, and her cunt gripped the shaft within her canal, and she humped 
herself on his rod. He groaned, and then began his movements once more, 
getting faster and faster, his body trembling, and his hands clawing all 
over. Then he opened his mouth and let forth a cry, and then his lips closed 
over hers, and their bodies shook as his penis ejaculated deep within her 
vagina; she felt the hot load of his come, shooting into her, and joining 
her own juices that oozed from her innermost depths, slickly sliding down 
her crevice, lubricating his shaft even more as it quivered with each shot; 
he moaned, and she felt like ten thousand bolts of lightning were going off 
inside her cunt; they shivered together until the last drop of his seed had 
been drained from his tube by her quickly contracting cunt, squeezing his 
shaft to get the last possible pleasure from it, buried in her; and then 
slowly she felt him begin to get soft and slide back out. She tried to 
relax, to grip him, to move her hips; anything to keep that wonderful piece 
of meat within her. But it was no use. He raised up and with a little plop! 
he pulled out; Suzanne looked down and saw his penis lying across his leg. 

She reached out and took it in her slim fingers, holding it and caressing 
its length, pulling the skin back to expose the head. A last drop of come 
oozed out of his slit, and she bent down and licked it off with her tongue, 
tasting its saltiness, savoring its animal flavor before swallowing it, and 
looking up into his eyes. He was staring at her with frankly adoring 
sparkle; his mouth grinned at her, and his hand came out and stroked her 
hair. 

"You're something else," he murmured. 

"You, too," she replied, and her head went down and closed around his shaft, 
taking its softness within her mouth and licking gently with her tongue. He 
lay back and closed his eyes, savoring the sensations. 

Clayton was working up slowly to his orgasm, getting little response from 
Yvonne, who was determined not to cooperate, despite her silent admission to 
herself that his penis was the best she had ever felt within her vagina; it 
was even bigger than Jeff's, and the boy knew how to work it. In, out, slow, 
fast, rotate it, let it slide out; he knew all the angles, but much as he 
tried he could not elicit any physical response from her. Perversely she lay 
still, her arms at her sides and a sneer on her lips. He tried to kiss her, 
but finally gave up, relishing only the feel of her flesh around his penis 
as he fucked her. 

Ted was still pumping his organ in and out of Carole's mouth. He had moved 
up a little, so that his hands could reach her breasts, and he was pinching 
her nipples with one hand and feeling her cunt with the other, his finger 
probing her flesh and touching her clitoris. She felt the eager response in 
her loins and began moving. Finally Ted moved quickly down, plunged his 
organ into her quivering cunt, and lay flat on top of her as he ejaculated. 
He moaned heavily, but did not cry out. When he was through, he lifted up 
and pulled out, staring down at her. He looked over at Clayton. 

"These two are cold as ice," he commented. "Come on, let's get with the 
other chick." 

"I ain't come yet," said Clayton, "but I'm almost there." 

"Good. Fuck Suzanne in the ass," said Ted, "and I'll get her in front." 

Suzanne heard them, and her eyes opened wide. She looked at them as they 
crawled across the floor, ignoring Yvonne and Carole. "Donald," she 
whispered. "Oh, no, please ..." 

"Shut up, bitch," said Clayton. "Poppa's comin' home." 

"Yvonne!" Suzanne's voice wailed, and Yvonne looked over at her with a sneer 
on her face. 

"Have at it, baby," she snapped. "Obviously you love it, you cheap little 
tramp. Fuck her, Clayton, give her everything you've got. She'll love that 
big black dick of yours up her ass." 

Suzanne watched, fascinated, as Clayton approached, his penis thicker than 
normal, swollen and slick from the action with Yvonne. The skin was slid 
back, exposing the purplish head which looked so large she wondered how it 
would ever enter her anus. But then, over and above her feelings of fear, 
she knew she wanted it. She wanted to feel it penetrate her, to thrust deep 
within her, to violate her totally. 

His dark hands clamped on her buttocks, and he moved his hips up so that his 
rod pushed between her cheeks and pressed against her anus. His fingers came 
around, one hand over her mound, the other on her stomach, and he gripped 
her firmly, moving his prick so that the end slid into her, and she gasped. 
The pain was excruciating. 

"Oooh, easy," she gasped, and he laughed cruelly. 

"Easy, she says. You know black boys don't do it easy, baby. We got the 
equipment and we know what to do with it. And you're gettin' it, hard and 
fast... now!" 

He pushed forward, and she felt his length slide into her, and she screamed. 
She felt sure he had ripped her open. Then slowly he began thrusting in and 
out, and with every movement she felt the warm glow return to her loins. His 
fingers were caressing her clitoris, and she moved in rhythm with him. 

"Hey, Ted, come over here and do somethin' with this pussy," Clayton said. 
"Give it to her." 

Ted slid across the floor until he was between her legs. He had been 
watching, fingering his penis, coaxing it back to firmness after shooting 
into Carole's mouth. He pushed Donald out of the way and began moving 
closer, pushing his half-hard cock towards Suzanne's dripping cunt. 

"Okay, spread those legs," he said, and Suzanne felt the end of his organ 
penetrate her cunt-lips. Aided by his hand, it went in, and he pushed it in 
all the way. He lay facing her, his arms about her, holding her body close 
to him, and he lowered his mouth to her nipples and began biting them. 

Suzanne felt herself being torn apart. She could visualize the white penis 
in her vagina and the black one up her rectum, massaging her insides, 
thrilling her as she had never dreamed possible, but at the same time she 
knew her anus was bleeding and incredibly tender; but she didn't care. She 
felt herself the center of a giant sex scene. She wished she had ten more 
cunts to take ten more cocks, and be fucked with ten times more violence. 

"Ooooooh, oooooooh," she moaned. "OOOH, "OOOOOOOOOH ... Fuck me, fuck me." 

Vaguely she heard Yvonne's voice. "I'm leaving, you bastards. You can fuck 
that whore all night, but not while I watch." 

"You stay where you are," growled Clayton. "You try and leave and you'll be 
flat on your back again." 

Yvonne subsided, next to Carole, and they watched with mounting horror as 
Suzanne's body was cruelly ravished by the two boys. 

Donald sat back on his haunches, his one hand playing with his penis, which 
was gradually getting erect again, his eyes glued on Suzanne's crotch, 
taking in everything as Ted rammed his penis in and out, only inches away 
from where Clayton's large thick black member was plunging.in and out like a 
railroad piston at full steam. Suzanne was rolling from side to side, her 
breasts flopping obscenely. 

"I'm there, I'm there," Clayton screamed suddenly, and his muscular body 
flexed as he held his organ within her anus, and she felt the hot rush of 
his seed deep within her intestines. His mouth came down on her shoulder and 
she felt the bite of his teeth, sinking into her flesh so that she cried 
out. She heard Yvonne's voice, "Suffer, you bitch, suffer!" For a moment, 
she wondered why Yvonne was suddenly so antagonistic towards her. She 
couldn't help her reactions; she was only a normal red-blooded girl giving 
vent to her natural desires. Or was she? Wasn't she rather some perverted 
trollop eager for cheap sex kicks and not caring how she got them? No 
matter. Fuck. Fuck. In, out. Go, Clayton, give me every drop of that jism up 
my ass. Go, Ted, go. Shoot that hot come up my twat, again, like Donald did. 

Poor Donald. He was staring at her with the strangest expression. She didn't 
care. She was the center of everything now. She was being lifted higher and 
higher. She felt Ted's organ flex and then he rammed in, and shouted out, 
"Wow, again, again, oh, wow, baby!" And she knew he had achieved a second 
climax. Her cunt ran with all the juices being pumped into it, and she could 
feel it dripping out between her thighs, making a squishy sound with every 
thrust of Ted's hard organ into her. 

She looked over and saw Donald's face slowly being transfigured with ecstasy 
as his hand masturbated his penis faster and faster. She knew what was 
happening to him, and a few seconds later she saw the white fluid spurt from 
the end of his cock, shooting over the rug, and then slowly dripping from 
his cockslit. Oh, if she had only known; she wanted his penis in her mouth. 
She wanted to taste that come on her tongue again. She cried out, and he 
stared at her, then, realizing her want, he moved quickly forward. She took 
his still-hard prick in between her lips and sucked hard, drawing out the 
last of his come and convulsing herself inside as she tasted it. Her insides 
seemed to twist and erupt as she let the come slide down her throat, feeling 
his rod flex in her mouth. 

This was the ultimate, she thought; I have a big black dick up my rear end; 
I have a thick white one in my cunt, and a beautiful white one in my mouth. 
What more? What more could a girl want, except maybe one in each hand, 
jerking them off? Her mind suddenly seemed to leave her body, and with a 
shudder she relaxed and floated, sublimely unaware of anything but the 
glorious sensations that she felt in every particle of her body. 

Slowly she came back to earth, feeling Clayton's massive phallus withdrawing 
from her, just as Ted's prick was softening in her cunt and sliding out. She 
continued sucking on Donald, and her fingers were caressing the inside of 
his legs, cupping his sac in her hands and playing with his balls. She 
nibbled on his foreskin, pulling it back and forth over his head with her 
teeth and licking across the end of his cock, feeling the deep slit with the 
tip of her tongue. His hands were gently playing with her hair, and he 
stared down at her with a tender expression on his youthful features. 

Her anus was stinging and almost insensitive, but as Clayton's cock popped 
out, she felt a stab of pain, and she jumped and cried out. The boys all got 
to their feet and stood, surveying her. She groaned, and sat up. 

"Oooh, you've split me," she said instinctively, imagining her anus a wide 
bloodied mess. 

"Serves you right," snapped Yvonne, and they all turned to look at her and 
Carole, who were huddled together, looking forlorn and miserable. Carole's 
face was impassive, but Yvonne's held a look of undisguised hate and 
disgust. 

Clayton grinned and humped his crotch obscenely at her. 

"Whatsamatter, baby? You want some of the action again?" he jeered. "That 
cunt of yours ain't worth a cent, I'll clue you. This chick here really gets 
with it." He pointed to Suzanne. "She sure has an educated asshole." 

"Most whores do," snapped Yvonne, and Carole tried to shush her, but she 
shrugged off the girl's restraining hand from her shoulder. "No, I won't 
shut up. If these bastards can do what they want, I sure as hell can say 
what I like." 

Ted laughed coarsely, and smiled at Suzanne. 

"Don't you worry about that old bat," he said. "You're the best fuck I've 
ever had. And you give the best blowjob, too." He sneered at Carole. "Better 
than this broad. She doesn't know what the hell to do. But you ..." He 
nodded vehemently ... "You sure make this thing feel good." He took his 
penis and waved it at her. 

Despite the pain in her anus and her apprehension at Yvonne's caustic 
comments and her expression of disgust, Suzanne felt a glow within her. She 
had done good! These boys, obviously well experienced at sex with many 
girls, had given her more than a passing grade; with only two days 
experience at sex, she had rated a high score! She felt a twinge of pride 
and accomplishment inside, and her body glowed with renewed pleasure. She 
smiled up at Donald, who grinned back at her. 

"She's the greatest," he said, and there was a warmth and sincerity in his 
voice. 

"Okay, okay," said Clayton, reaching for his clothes. "I guess that's it for 
now, chick-a-bid-dies. We'se movin' on." He grinned evilly. "I got a hot 
date at eight. Another white chick," he added, leering at Yvonne. "She's 
'bout as old as you, but she digs my big dick. And she knows what to do with 
it, too. Come on, guys, let's go." 

The boys got dressed quickly and walked to the door. Suzanne remained on the 
floor, staring up at them with a curious mixture of admiration, distrust, 
and relief that it was over. They paused at the door, and Clayton looked 
back, his hand on the wall as he surveyed the three naked girls on the 
floor. 

"Jest in case you git any ideas," he drawled. "I wanna remind you it ain't 
no use tryin' to cause trouble. Understand?" 

Yvonne's voice shot across the room like the crack of a revolver. "Listen, 
stud, there's going to be a patrol car outside this building every night 
from now on, so you watch it. If any of you ..." Her eyes went from Clayton, 
to Ted, to Donald, and the hate in her expression was unmistakable... "any 
of you show your faces here again, it's going to be bad news. It's not three 
against one now. It's three against three, and you know goddamn well who 
they're going to believe. So get your asses out, and don't come back." 

Ted and Donald exchanged a look, and then they both stared at Clayton. Their 
expressions of cocky assurance faded slightly, and Donald moved out the 
doorway, followed by Ted. Clayton stood a moment longer, his eyes going from 
Yvonne to Carole to Suzanne. He laughed, a little uncertainly. 

"Up yours," he muttered, and then he was gone, slamming the door as a final 
gesture of defiance. 

The room echoed to the bang of the door, and as silence descended the girls 
heard the clatter of footsteps receding down the stairs. 

They all reached for their robes, and quickly wrapped them around their 
bodies. Yvonne's breathing was heavy, and her eyes flashed. Suzanne stared 
at her, and then at Carole, not sure of what to say. 

"Okay, okay, you're sorry, that's what you're going to say, is that it?" 
snapped Yvonne, finally breaking the silence. "Well, let me tell you, 
Suzanne, I'm thinking that you've encouraged those pricks...." 

"Yvonne!" It was Carole's voice that exploded with disbelief at her friend's 
accusation. Suzanne was so stunned she was speechless. 

"Shut up, Carole. Don't tell me you didn't see the way this little whore was 
enjoying it? She loved every frigging minute of it. She loved having those 
cocks jammed into her. Anyway she could, she was taking it. And she loved 
it. Christ, a cock-lover and a nigger-lover as well! Let me tell you, 
Suzanne, I'd like to puke all over you right now." 

Suzanne's eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head helplessly; she was 
appalled by Yvonne's reaction. 

"You're being ridiculous," said Carole staunchly. "Don't tell me you think 
Suzanne enjoyed what they did to her... ?" 

"Hah!" Yvonne's voice could be heard ten blocks away. "Hah!" 

"Yvonne, listen to me," Suzanne said, her self-composure returning suddenly, 
despite the tears that were streaming down her face. "Yvonne, please! You're 
... you're not making sense." 

"No, my girl, it's you who doesn't make sense. You came crying to Carole and 
me, saying how you'd been defiled and violated and all that shit, and here 
they 're back, and you actually ..." She paused, taking a deep breath. 

"You actually said you'd like Donald. You showed them you wanted that little 
prick. And you enjoyed it, every goddamn fucking minute, whether it was 
Donald or those other two studs. Jesus, you're sick, that's all I can say." 

Suzanne's temper rose. "Sick? Oh, so that's it now. I'm sick? What about 
you? Maybe if you had a big dick up your cunt more often, you wouldn't be 
the way you are." 

"Suzanne!" It was Carole who cried out, her voice hurt and disbelieving. 
"You don't know what you're saying." 

"No, it's Yvonne who doesn't know what she's saying. And she doesn't know 
what she's doing, either. She's a horny old dyke, but at least I'm a horny 
young girl who knows what feels best. Don't you accuse me of being sick, 
Yvonne. Sure I chose Donald, but you know why? Because he's tender and I 
knew he wouldn't hurt me as much as the others might. I knew I'd get 
something out of it, and I did. Donald is wonderful and I did enjoy what he 
did to me. But don't tell me I enjoyed the others. You want to come over and 
see my bleeding asshole? I feel like a truck's been driven up my rear end." 

"Yeah, and a truck'd probably fit," snapped Yvonne. "You're a little 
high-class whore, and I'm sorry I didn't realize it before. We've never had 
any problems with neighborhood kids before. You move in, and what happens? 
We get attacked and we can't do a thing about it. Well, I happen to have a 
few friends downtown, and I meant it when I said there'll be a patrol car 
outside this building. I'm going to make sure those three bastards get their 
asses thrown inside for one reason or another." 

"That's not going to help," said Carole resignedly. "And you know it. 
They've probably got records a mile long already." 

Yvonne's shoulders suddenly slumped, and she sighed. She turned, reaching 
for her cigarettes, and sat in a chair, puffing furiously, while Carole and 
Suzanne stared at her silently. 

"Okay, okay." Yvonne spat the words out. 

Suzanne's temper subsided, and she felt the tears welling up again. Before 
she knew it, she was weeping hysterically into her hands, her shoulders 
shaking and her body wracked with sobs. Carole moved over, putting her arm 
around Suzanne and holding her close. 

"Come on, come on," she murmured, "it's over. Let's not argue any longer. 
Please, Yvonne..." She turned and looked at her friend. "Yvonne, what you 
said was awful. You didn't mean it, I know. Tell Suzanne you're sorry." 

Yvonne's thin eyebrows disappeared into her hair. 

"Me say I'm sorry? Carole, you've lost your mind. No, baby, I believe what I 
said. And there's no use denying it. She enjoyed every fucking minute of it, 
and she'd probably have each one of them back if she could. Come on, Carole, 
I'm leaving." 

She rose and walked to the door. Carole stared at her and slowly shook her 
head. 

"No, Yvonne, don't. Please, Suzanne's your friend. You can't let something 
like this turn you against her. What are friends for? Can't you see she 
needs us now? More than ever. Come, sit down. I'll make some coffee." 

Yvonne paused at the door and sneered. 

"Suzanne was right, you know, Carole. I am an old dyke, and she doesn't know 
much about dykes. Maybe this'll be a lesson to her. I'm leaving, and I'm not 
coming back." 

Suzanne wiped her eyes and struggled to her feet, her face flushed with 
anger. 

"Just a minute," she shouted. "Remember last night? Remember how I came to 
you for help, how I was sore, frightened and needed a friend? And what 
happened? You put the make on me. Sure, I'm learning about dykes. They're 
after the same thing those boys were. Sex. Sure, I joined in. I loved it. 
You taught me something new, something I didn't know about, and I had a 
ball. But don't get all moralistic now. You've got no reason to be, Yvonne. 
You're just as bad as those boys. The only difference is they have cocks, 
and you don't. And believe me, baby, I'll take a hard cock any day over what 
you can do. What they did to me might not be the best way to go about sex, 
but at least it was normal. And believe me, I'm normal, and I plan to stay 
that way, no matter how well you know how to suck pussy." 

"Suzanne! Stop it, stop it!" 

Carole's voice rose above her own, and then suddenly Suzanne collapsed on 
the couch, weeping uncontrollably, her sobs echoing round the room. Yvonne 
stood, breathing heavily, her eyes downcast, and her fingers twitching. 
Carole went to Suzanne, and sat, patting her shoulder. She looked up at 
Yvonne, and shook her head sadly. 

"We've all got our cross to bear," Yvonne said cryptically. "You coming, 
Carole?" 

The other girl nodded, and rose, looking down at Suzanne; then she followed 
Yvonne out of the room. The door closed behind them, and Suzanne continued 
to lie on the couch, hardly aware that they had left, her body wracked with 
dry heaves as her emotions consumed her self-control. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Suzanne lay on her bed, staring out the wide window at the white-capped 
Detroit River. In the distance a lonely tug broke the silence with its 
mournful hoot, and a flock of birds was silhouetted against the clouds, 
flying north to Canada. 

She stretched, lifting her arms lazily; she smiled, and snuggled back 
against the pillow. For the hundredth time, she reached for the letter on 
the nightstand, opened it and read, an extra smile of pleasure creasing her 
face. 

A brief knock at the door heralded its opening, and Mrs. Delacorte walked 
in, carrying a breakfast tray. 

"How many times are you going to read his letter?" she said, her normally 
prim face relaxed in a sympathetic grin. 

Suzanne folded the paper and pushed it back in the envelope. 

"Every hour until he gets here," she replied happily. "Oh, Mother, I'm so 
excited." 

"I guess I would be, too," said Mrs. Delacorte, placing the tray across the 
bed. "Come on, I've fixed your breakfast myself today. Scrambled eggs the 
way you like them, sausage and toast and coffee. Your father says I'm 
spoiling you." 

Suzanne laughed, and looked affectionately up at her mother. "Sit down and 
talk," she said. 

"I was intending to," said the older woman. "After all, since you left home, 
I've missed our little chats. It's good to have you back." 

"I know. I'm glad to be back, too." 

Mrs. Delacorte lit a cigarette from the box on the nightstand, and leaned 
back, her eyes resting lovingly on her daughter. 

"You're certainly looking better than you did when you returned," she 
commented. "I can't tell you how unhappy I was with your living in that 
dreadful slum." 

"It wasn't that bad," Suzanne admitted, sipping her coffee. "But ... well, 
there's no place like home." 

Her mother nodded. "Especially when it's clean, modern and comfortable," she 
said. "Tell me, what really made you decide to move back? I mean, I had 
fully expected you to return, but not quite so soon." 

Suzanne hesitated, and took a mouthful of sausage and eggs before replying. 

"Well, lots of things, really," she said guardedly. "I guess, to be honest, 
I got tired of slumming." 

"Spoken like a true Grosse Pointer," said Mrs. Delacorte, and they both 
laughed, knowing the humor of her statement. 

"Truthfully, I wanted to stay, but the neighborhood is really worse than I 
had expected." 

"Why do you think the city's tearing it all down?" asked her mother. 
"Another few years, and all those crummy buildings will be gone, and nice, 
new high rise apartments for students will take their place. And it's about 
time, too. Wayne's a good school, and I've never understood how they've put 
up with those ghastly people living in those old buildings, right next door, 
as it were. I mean, it's terrible that the poor have such bad living 
conditions, but I feel if half of them got out and worked, they wouldn't 
have to live like they do. It's a sad situation." She sighed. "I'm thankful 
that your father and I have been able to give you a good home and a 
respectable upbringing. I've often imagined what might happen if a girl grew 
up among those people." She shuddered. "I've been told that half of them are 
pregnant by the time they're sixteen." 

Suzanne stared at her mother intently. Mrs. Delacorte's face had a tolerant 
look of distaste which accentuated the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her 
mouth and eyes, skillfully covered with a layer of makeup. Her hair was 
immaculate, and from her ears a pair of diamonds were suspended on small 
platinum chains. Her dress was a sophisticated black sheath, simple and 
tasteful, but obviously from Saks or Bergdorfs. 

Suzanne had a passing mental image of Donald's mother, seated in her rundown 
apartment on Forest Avenue, her hair hanging in rattails, her coarse 
features devoid of makeup, and her breasts swinging obscenely under her 
cotton shift, while her bare feet rested on the torn linoleum rug, and the 
woman's drawling Kentucky accents echoed in her ears... " Work? I dunno. 
There ain't much I can do. 'Sides, I git enough from welfare to get by." 

Suzanne shivered and took another bite of toast. 

"I learned a lot, I'll say that," she murmured, washing the toast down with 
a sip of coffee. "I'll probably have a real good grade in sociology, thanks 
to my research. My paper's coming along nicely." 

"Good," replied Mrs. Delacorete vaguely. "It's a blessing that you're 
intelligent, my girl." 

Suzanne stared at her mother, not quite comprehending the words which 
sounded out of context to what they had been discussing. But she decided to 
let it pass. There were many things her mother said which she realized were 
merely words to fill up time between what Mrs. Delacorte considered the 
important aspects of life. 

"So when's Sam arriving?" 

Suzanne smiled happily, and her heart beat a little faster. 

"Five o'clock," she replied. "On BOAC. I'm going to be at the airport in 
plenty of time. I don't want to miss seeing the plane come in. Oh, Mother, 
I'm so happy." 

"You look it, I'll say that for you." Her mother paused and smirked. "You 
are going to marry him, aren't you?" 

Suzanne nodded emphatically. "Of course. I've always been in love with Sam." 

"Hm. To be truthful, I had expected you to get married a few months ago, but 
then he suddenly upped and flew off to Europe. Did you by any chance have a 
tiff?" 

Suzanne shook her head. "Nope. He just said he wanted to get away for a 
while," she lied. "But let's not talk about that. Sam's coming back, and 
just as soon as we can, we're going to be married." 

"He asked you in his letter?" 

"No. He didn't ask. He said so." 

"Oh. Caveman tactics." 

"No. He's aware how I feel. I guess he just took it for granted that I'd say 
yes, and I will. Oh, Mother, I can hardly wait." 

Mrs. Delacorte sniffed. "Well, I want you both to have a talk with the 
minister first. You know, there are lots of things a young couple should 
know before getting married. And of course we'll have to send out the 
invitations and everything. Oh, I want you to have the biggest and best 
wedding that Grosse Pointe has ever seen. After all, Sam's family is 
well-known, and it should be a real nice splash on the social pages." 

Suzanne leaned back and wiped her mouth with the linen napkin. 

"Mother, I'd just as soon have a quiet ceremony. I know Sam's not planning a 
big wedding. He's often said so." 

"Suzanne, children do not arrange their weddings. Their parents do, and 
you're not going to deprive me of seeing my only daughter married in high 
style." 

"But, mother, it's my wedding." 

"I'll not discuss it any further, Suzanne," said Mrs. Delacorte, rising and 
lifting the breakfast tray off the bed. "You're going to have a big wedding 
and you may as well get used to the idea." 

Suzanne sighed. 

"Yes, Mother." 

"And don't look like that. You know you really want it, just like any other 
Grosse Pointe girl. Remember, you only get married once, and you may as well 
go all the way. It's not that we can't afford it, remember, like those other 
people." 

"I know. But I think Sam'll want to get married right away, and a big 
wedding takes time, and there's so much planning and all that nonsense." 

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Delacorte's voiced rose three octaves. "Suzanne, you listen 
to me, my girl. I'll arrange everything, and you can get married, oh, say, 
in about a month or six weeks. Besides, that'll give you and Sam a little 
time together. After all, he has been away, and I'm sure you both have lots 
to talk about." 

"I suppose so." Suzanne threw the covers back and stepped out on to the 
thick, plush carpet. "Mother, I think I'll shower and get dressed. 

Thanks for the breakfast." 

Mrs. Delacorte picked up the tray and moved to the door. 

"You're welcome, dear, and believe me, darling, it's so wonderful having you 
back home again. You've no idea how much happier I am, knowing you're back 
where you belong." 

She left, closing the door behind her. Suzanne glided across the carpet 
soundlessly, and went into the pink and white tiled bathroom, resplendent 
with gold fixtures and a sunken tub. She stared at herself in the 
full-length mirrors, and slipped off her pajamas, standing naked while she 
surveyed her body. 

She heard a voice echoing in her mind ... "Jeez, lookit them tits!" She 
closed her eyes, seeing Donald's naked body on top of her own, his mouth 
hungrily devouring her lips while his penis moved slowly in and out of her 
vagina. 

With a quick shake of her head, she dismissed the memory, stepped into the 
tub, and turned on the faucet. As the stinging warm water splashed on her 
skin, she reached for the soap and began soaping herself all over, relishing 
the sensual feeling of her fingers and the spray. 

It was nice to be home again, she thought, enjoying all the comforts that 
her parents' wealth afforded her. Yet there had been a cozy warmth to her 
little apartment on campus; if only it could have stayed that way, instead 
of being so violently disrupted by those boys. And Yvonne ... poor Yvonne! 
Suzanne would never forget the look on the woman's face as she walked out of 
the apartment that night, her age and her frustrations deflating her 
expression, removing the constant forced sparkle and superficial gaiety. And 
Carole, whose eyes had betrayed her remorse even if her mouth had remained 
silent. Yes, it had been a bad scene, but as an experience, it had been 
invaluable. Even her encounters with the three boys had been a traumatic 
breakthrough for her, revealing her innate sexuality to herself and enabling 
her to dispel her inhibitions. She knew now that when she and Sam slid under 
the sheets, she would be able to satisfy him completely. And she knew 
instinctively that a wife who keeps her husband happy that way need never 
fear about his straying from home. Yes, she would be able to give Sam every 
type of sensual satisfaction he could possibly crave. Her body glowed at the 
thought, and she finished her toilet quickly, eager to be dressed and ready 
to go to the airport and meet him. Her heart beat quicker at the thought of 
seeing his handsome face once more, feeling his arms about her and his lips 
pressing on her own. Oh, Sam ... Sam ... hurry home, darling, hurry home. My 
arms are waiting and my body is eager to feel you, naked and aroused, lying 
on top of me ... 

Detroit Metropolitan Airport was crowded as Suzanne and her parents pushed 
their way through the mass of people to the arrival gate. Suzanne's hands 
were trembling, and she bit her lip as she moved, her body bumped by the 
throng of travelers disembarking. Her eyes were glued at the oncoming sea of 
faces, eagerly searching for the broad, handsome features and shock of brown 
hair that she had been dreaming of for so long. "There he is!" 

Mrs. Delacorte's voice cut through the babble like a knife, and Suzanne 
turned and stared. "Oh, Sam!" 

She rushed forward, and they were in each other's arms, and she felt his 
wide lips cover her own. Her arms held him tightly, and instinctively she 
opened her mouth and let her tongue lick across his lips for a second before 
breaking apart. Sam's large blue eyes were wide, and he laughed 
enthusiastically: 

"Now that's what I call a welcome," he breathed. "Oh, Suzanne, it's so good 
to see you." 

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and kept one arm around his waist while 
he shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Delacorte. He looked around. 

"Mother and Dad didn't come?" he asked disappointedly. 

"No, afraid not, Sam," said Mr. Delacorte, "Your father's in Chicago on 
business, and your mother wasn't feeling well. Nothing serious, just a touch 
of the flu." 

"Oh, well, you're here," Sam said, looking at Suzanne. "That's all that 
really matters." 

They walked back through the terminal and collected his two suitcases, and 
in ten minutes were driving back down the expressway towards Detroit, Sam 
sitting close to Suzanne in the back seat of the Delacorte Cadillac, while 
Mr. and Mrs. Delacorte rode up front, both keeping their eyes tactfully on 
the road, conscious that the two young people in the back would much rather 
be alone. Suzanne snuggled close, her one hand on the inside of Sam's thigh; 
his arm was around her, and every few seconds, they would lean close and 
kiss. Suzanne felt her loins responding, and she knew Sam was getting 
excited. She had already noticed the slight bulge in his pants, and inwardly 
she felt a glow of satisfaction. Oh, she could hardly wait 'til they were 
really alone. She wanted him so badly, she almost hurt. 

"You're having dinner with us tonight," said Mrs. Delacorte imperiously, "Of 
course, we'll drop you off at your home first so you can say hello to your 
mother, but then you come on over. I know Suzanne's got lots of things to 
discuss with you, and we have to make plans for the wedding and everything." 

Sam's eyes almost popped out of his head. 

"Wedding?" 

Suzanne squeezed his thigh. 

"Of course, darling." She kissed him quickly. "Don't tell me you're turning 
me down?" 

He grinned happily. "No, of course not," he said firmly. "But I thought at 
least you'd wait 'til I asked you." 

Mr. Delacorte's gruff voice broke in. 

"Sam, if Suzanne's like her mother, you don't stand a chance, take it from 
me. Mrs. Delacorte proposed and married me before I could say, 'Drop your 
drawers.'" 

"Really!" 

Mrs. Delacorte's acid tones were drowned by Sam's loud laugh and Suzanne's 
high-pitched giggle. 

"At least you're not marrying her for money," Mr. Delacorte continued more 
soberly. "Which is comforting." 

"I'm marrying Suzanne," said Sam evenly, "because I love her." 

Suzanne steered the car carefully around the winding street. Her eyes were 
on the road, but she knew Sam's were on her, taking in every inch of her 
profile. 

"Well," he murmured gratefully. "At last we're alone, really alone." 

"I know," she replied. "My folks can be a real drag sometimes, but they mean 
well." 

The car pulled up outside the large mansion. 

"You coming in for a while?" asked Sam, putting his hand on her shoulder. 

"Try and stop me," Suzanne answered. 

They climbed out of the car and walked up the driveway arm in arm. 

"That was a good dinner," said Sam inconsequentially. 

"Mm." 

"You going to cook for me when we're married?" 

"Of course." 

He laughed. "I thought maybe you'd want a cook like your mother has." 

"Never. I'm going to cook for you, clean house, do everything for you." 

"Everything?" 

She squeezed his waist. 

"Everything." 

"You sound terribly menacing." "Maybe I am." "I love it." "And I love you." 

She turned into him, moved her arms up around his neck, and pulled him to 
her, closing her lips over his. Breathlessly, they clung together, the warm 
breeze caressing their faces, and the bright moonlight turning Suzanne's 
hair to silver. 

They broke apart and continued walking up to the front door. 

"Mother's probably asleep by now," said Sam, opening the massive carved slab 
and ushering her inside. 

"Good. We won't be interrupted then," said Suzanne, walking into the tiled 
entrance hall, her heels clicking softly. 

He laughed softly. 

"Are you planning to seduce me, young woman?" She nodded. 

"Of course. You really didn't invite me in for coffee now, did you?" "Of 
course not." "All right, then." 

She walked into the wide living room, illuminated only by a small reading 
lamp at the far end. The warm glow gave her cheeks a sensuous patina, and 
Sam smiled as he approached her, took her in his arms, and kissed her 
gently. 

"You're very lovely," he murmured. "And I've missed you terribly." 

"Me, too. There wasn't a day I didn't wish you were back here. Oh, Sam, why 
did you ever leave?" 

"You know why," he replied calmly. "I couldn't stand it any longer." 

"Couldn't stand what?" 

"Being with you, but still being at arm's length. You remember that night on 
Belle Isle?" 

She nodded. "I'll never forget it." 

"That's why. I figured I'd better get the hell away for a while. I think I 
did the right thing." 

"Maybe you did. I've learned a lot since then." 

"Like what?" 

She moved away from him and over to a wide couch. She plumped down, and 
beckoned him to join her. 

"Oh, lots of things. Like what a man expects from a girl, and how she should 
respond." 

He laughed and sank into the cushions beside her. His hand went around her 
shoulders, and she leaned to him, her face tilted up invitingly. He kissed 
her quickly. 

"Maybe I should see how you've changed." 

"I haven't changed. I've just improved my education," Suzanne said with a 
giggle, her mind picturing her naked body on the floor of her apartment and 
Donald's body descending upon her. 

"Well, I've had a few experiences myself," said Sam, his hand moving over to 
her breast and taking it gently in his fingers. "So maybe we've both grown 
up a little." 

"Not a little," she replied, feeling her loins responding to his gentle 
caressing. "A lot." 

Hungrily, she closed her mouth over his, and as their tongues met she slid 
her fingers between his legs and gripped his hardening shaft. As their 
tongues ravenously explored each other's mouths, Suzanne felt her emotions 
rising as her fingers felt his penis stiffen and throb. She reached for his 
zipper, and a few seconds later his naked organ was exposed, and her hand 
was holding it, her mind reeling under the impact of its size and thickness. 

He broke away and leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes closed. 
He sighed ecstatically as he felt the surge of sensation through his groin 
as her fingers expertly pulled his foreskin back and forth over the head of 
his penis. 

"Suzanne ... Suzanne," he breathed. 

She felt the tiger inside her straining to break loose, and then it 
happened; she felt a shiver through her body, and her emotions rose as she 
lowered her head with a rush and closed her lips around the end of his 
shaft, sucking hard and firmly. Her fingers pushed into his pants and pulled 
out his balls and began fondling them, rolling them in her hand. She gloried 
in their size, and she felt her vagina oozing juices in anticipation of 
receiving that thick, long phallus in its hot, hungry cavern. 

He groaned, and she felt his rod flex in her mouth. Her tongue flicked 
across the end of his glans, probing his wide cockslit, and her mouth moved 
up and down, taking his length all the way until she felt the end ram into 
her throat. 

"Easy, easy," he whispered. "You'll make me come." 

She raised up and stared into his eyes. "Come, then," she whispered. "I want 
you to come." 

Hungrily she went back to his staff, her fingers massaging the hilt and his 
balls while her lips sucked harder and harder. She felt it throb and expand, 
and then his hands came down on her head, holding her firmly as he gasped. 
She felt a jerk in his hips, and then the sweet, salty taste of his seed was 
on her tongue, load after load; she gulped, swallowed and continued sucking 
until he relaxed, exhausted, panting, and he took her head and pulled it up 
to his mouth, kissing her violently. Finally they broke apart. 

Sam stared at her with wonder in his eyes. 

"You have changed," he murmured. "Oh, Suzanne ..." 

"I know," she whispered. "That was wonderful." 

She went down on him again, sucking the last drops from his tube and 
nibbling on his foreskin, biting it gently and pulling it over his softening 
shaft, licking underneath it. He groaned and pulled her head off. 

"Wait, wait," he pleaded. "Not so hard." 

"What do you mean?" she said teasingly. "Am I too much?" 

He laughed. "He's kinda sensitive after he shoots," he explained, and she 
giggled. 

"Okay, I'll just let him lie in my mouth. Okay?" 

She took his rod once more, letting it remain between her lips, feeling its 
softness, .its thickness, and savoring the taste of his come. Finally she 
raised up. 

"Okay," Suzanne said brightly. "Now you can take me upstairs to your room, 
and I'll really show you something." 

He shook his head in amazement and tucked his penis back in his pants. 

"I just don't believe it," he said, rising, and pulling her up beside him. 
"What's happened to you?" 

"I went to Wayne for an education," she said cryptically. "And I've 
graduated, that's what." 

"It makes me feel you've got a practical education rather than academic 
one," he said guardedly. 

"Ask no questions, hear no lies," she laughed. "Come on, don't tell me you 
prefer a coy virgin who doesn't know how to fuck." 

He gasped. 

"Suzanne!" 

"Do I shock you?" 

He shook his head. 

"No, because I've not exactly been wasting my time in Europe," he said with 
a sly grin. "So maybe we can compare notes. In bed, of course," he added, 
squeezing her waist and leading her towards the stairs. 

"Of course," she echoed. "Where else is there?" 

Sam's heart was beating wildly as they entered his room, and he closed the 
door and clicked the lock. Suzanne walked over to the bed and bounced on it. 

"Hm, nice and springy," she commented. "Not too much rebound." 

"You're too much," he said. "Come on, let me undress you. I've always wanted 
to." 

"The hell with you," she snapped pleasantly. "Undress yourself. It'll be 
quicker, and I want to feel you next to me, Sam." She ran across the room 
into his arms. "I want to hold you naked in my arms, and feel you slide into 
me, every inch of you. Sam, I want you to fuck me like no one else you've 
ever fucked." 

He grinned at her. 

"The same goes for you, you adorable little hussy," he said, and as he 
pulled his shirt off and undid his pants, his eyes gazed eagerly at her body 
as it slowly came into view as one by one her garments fell away until she 
stood, naked and unashamed before him, her breasts round, full and luscious, 
her slender waist and her wide hips with the enticing dark-blonde bush 
between her thighs. She noticed his sex beginning to rise again, and she lay 
back on the bed, her arms beckoning, and he came to her, lowering his body 
on top of hers, covering her, his penis between her legs and his arms around 
her. 

She shivered as she felt his warm flesh against her own, and she opened her 
mouth for his tongue. They clung together, and she moved her hips under him, 
her excitement growing as she felt the hair on his chest rubbing against her 
nipples. 

"Oh, fuck me, Sam, fuck me," she whispered. 

He slid his mouth off her cheeks, down across her neck, and enclosed her 
breasts in his hungry lips, flicking his tongue across her nipples, going 
from one to the other, while Suzanne felt her loins heating up, the fire in 
her vagina not to be denied. 

"Now, now," she cried out. "I want you in me. 

Teasingly, his mouth slid over her stomach, and then with a rush he buried 
his face in her bush, her musky odor in his nostrils exciting him even more 
than the touch of her flesh. 

With his hands he pulled open her crevice, exposing her red-hot flesh. His 
tongue found her clitoris, and he licked, and stabs of erotic arousal 
suffused her body. She began moving her hips and moaning loudly. 

"More, more, suck it, suck it," she cried out, and his mouth bit her gently, 
his teeth closing round the hard nipple of her clitoris while his tongue 
went wild on her. 

"Please, please," she urged him. "I want it in me, Sam, now, now." 

He raised up. His penis was hard and throbbing once more between his legs, 
its foreskin stretched back exposing his broad flat red head, oozing lube 
from its slit. He threw one leg over her and gently lowered himself, 
pressing the end of his cock against her cunt-lips. She moaned and put her 
hand down to guide it in, thrilling at the touch of his size once more. 

With a gasp he penetrated her and slid in all the way. As she felt his 
maleness enter, Suzanne gave a cry of ecstasy. Her insides convulsed and she 
knew the end of his prick was right up at the mouth of her womb. They 
fitted, perfectly; they were just the right size. His cock was everything 
she had hoped and dreamed it would be. With a sudden animal violence, she 
gripped his shaft with her vagina as he began thrusting in and out of her. 
She felt his balls slap against her flesh as he rammed home, deep into her, 
and her nails dragged across his back. 

Eagerly he lowered his mouth to her breasts and began kissing them as he 
continued to move inside her, pushing his rod all the way in, then slowly 
withdrawing until it was almost all the way out, then going back in quickly, 
all the way. She was writhing in ecstasy, her physical responses heightened 
by the knowledge that finally it was Sam on top of her, finally it was the 
one she really loved, and they were together, fucking, not just for the mere 
animal satisfaction, but because they loved each other. 

She had never known such feelings within her. Even with Clayton's enormous 
organ violating her; even Ted or Donald; even the undeniable delight of 
Yvonne's tongue; none of these compared with the thrills that flooded her, 
knowing it was Sam's penis within her vagina. It was Sam on top of her. Sam 
... Sam ... at last, she breathed, at last. 

With a cry, Suzanne lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, 
pushing her hips closer to him and feeling the answering throb of additional 
excitement in his cock. Her insides convulsed and her vagina was wet with 
her juices as her hands clawed his skin and she felt her orgasm flood 
through her. Her mind floated up off the bed; her body seemed to spin, 
suspended on the tip of his cock, which jerked and ejaculated its load into 
her innermost depths. He cried out, moaning and calling her name, and her 
throat was dry from the excitement and her calling out to him. "Oh, Sam, 
Sam, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me ..." 

Slowly they subsided, and she felt him getting soft inside her. He lifted 
his head and stared into her eyes. 

"Suzanne..." he breathed. "It's never been like that before." 

"Nor me," she replied. 

"I love you." 

"I know. I love you, too." 

They lay still, enjoying the warm afterglow. His penis slid out and he lay 
beside her, letting her fingers hold his organ gently, while his fingers 
stroked her breasts. 

They each had a million questions, but each knew instinctively not to ask 
them. 

Mrs. Delacorte bustled into Suzanne's bedroom, where two maids were busily 
helping her into her wedding gown. 

"Now, there's a bride for you," she said loudly, standing with one hand on 
her hip, surveying her daughter with pride. "You look absolutely ravishing, 
my dear. You always did look better in white, I think." Suzanne turned and 
smiled at her. 

"Yes," Mrs. Delacorte said, "It sets off your coloring. You should be on the 
cover of McCall's. You look so pure and chaste. The perfect image of 
unsullied womanhood." 

"Of course, mother," replied Suzanne. 

"Oh, talking to McCall's, the picture in today's paper is really lovely. 
Look." 

Suzanne took the newspaper and stared down at the picture of herself on the 
social page. 

"It is nice," she commented. 

"Nice? It's beautiful," said Mrs. Delacorte. "But then, you are beautiful, 
Suzanne. I'm very proud of you, and so's your father. This reminds me of my 
own wedding. It seems so long ago now. Oh, dear, I mustn't cry, I mustn't. 
I'll ruin these new lashes." Carefully she dabbed her eyes with a filmy 
handkerchief. 

"Mother, stop carrying on," said Suzanne. "I'm nervous enough as it is." 

"All right, all right. You almost ready? The car's waiting." 

"Yes, I'm ready." 

She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She did look wonderful, she 
thought; the bodice fitted her perfectly, showing off her full, rounded 
bosom, and the waist tucked in, giving her a perfect figure. Yes, she did 
make a wonderful-looking bride. She lifted her head, turned, and followed 
her mother down the stairs. 

As she was helped into the back seat of the Cadillac, she wondered what Sam 
was thinking at that moment. They had seen each other almost daily since his 
return, and their relationship had become closer and closer. She had slept 
with him almost every night, and with each encounter they discovered more 
about each other and the different ways to pleasure their bodies. Oh, Sam, 
she thought, you're the greatest lover a girl could ever want. 

The car pulled away from the house, and the trees lining the driveway became 
a blur. She was only conscious of the wild excitement within her and the 
anticipation of the honeymoon. They had decided to go to Bermuda for two 
weeks, and then on to Rio and back through Mexico City. In all, they planned 
to be gone a month. "That's enough time to get acquainted," Mr. Delacorte 
had said, squashing his wife's notion of a three-month European tour for 
them as a going-away present. "After all, they're not going to be doing much 
sightseeing. What can you see from a hotel suite?" Mrs. Delacorte had 
sniffed and told him not to be coarse. 

As the car approached the church in Grosse Pointe, Suzanne saw a small crowd 
outside. Her heart beat even faster as she noticed two photographers 
standing to one side, their cameras ready in their hands. 

The car pulled up slowly, and her father walked down from the steps to help 
her out. There were gasps of envy from the women, and some man gave a low 
whistle. Suzanne grinned up at Mr. Delacorte, who nodded his approval. 

"I'm happy for you," he whispered. 

"Thanks, Daddy," she replied, and together they walked into the church, her 
lace veil and train billowing in the slight breeze. 

The ceremony was brief, and Suzanne was not aware of anything but Sam's firm 
hand on her own and his deep voice repeating the vows after the minister. 

"You may now kiss the bride." 

She felt Sam's soft lips on her own, and quickly her tongue licked his, and 
then they separated, flushing, and turned to walk down the aisle. On either 
side she saw the admiring glances of her friends, the smiles and whispered 
words of congratulation, and she felt a warm glow within her. She held on to 
Sam tightly, conscious that the strain was beginning to tell. It would soon 
be over and they would be away, alone again. 

They paused at the entrance, and the photographers were standing there. The 
barrage of flashbulbs blinded her for a moment, and then the hail of rice 
descended and the excited shouts of the crowd gathered there. Sam helped her 
down the steps, afraid she might trip on her dress. Suzanne bent down and 
took the end of it, placing it over her arm. She raised up, and her eyes met 
another pair among the crush of people, a pair of blue eyes that stared at 
her with incredible longing and incredible sadness. She felt a stab within 
her heart, and she paused, unable to move, her attention held by the 
intensity of the gaze that burned from the youthful features. She felt 
herself unable to take another step, and was dimly aware of Sam's hand on 
her arm, pulling her forward, but her feet seemed riveted to the sidewalk. 

"Come on," whispered Sam, and then he saw her expression. "You all right?" 

She nodded vaguely, conscious of the sad young face in the crowd which 
threatened to burst into tears any second. The mouth quivered and formed the 
words: "I love you." She felt her breath catch in her throat. 

"Oh, Donald," she whispered inaudibly to herself, and then she stepped 
forward, clinging to Sam's arm. As they climbed into the car, she felt the 
wetness on her own cheeks. Sam put his arm around her shoulders and sudden 
concern showed on his face. 

"Darling, you're crying." 

Slowly the car pulled away and drove quickly up the street, leaving behind 
the excited throng, cheering and waving hands excitedly, and one lonely 
young boy, standing apart and alone, his eyes blurring as he watched the 
limousine disappear around a corner. 


End
