A Mother's Hunger
by Faye Jackson


FOREWORD 

In this candid portrait of a woman obsessed with what in America must be the 
ultimate sexual taboo incest authoress Faye Jackson spins a web that 
encompasses far more of what is the plight of all too many women. Incest 
bears an out-dated stigma. The roots of the taboo associated with it lie in 
a pragmatism that had been anachronistic since the advent of dependable 
birth control devices. But the authoress is dealing with a theme whose broad 
ramifications are far more subtle, the threats far more devious, than sex 
between blood relatives whatever their relationship might be. Though the 
incest must inevitably occur in this terse, realistic novel, the crux of the 
narration treats upon the unnatural alternatives to the "taboo", and it is 
to the authoress's credit that she has presented the desperate alternative 
gropings of the heroine, Katherine Beauchamp, in such a manner as to 
virtually minimize the impact of the taboo act itself when it is compared to 
the less healthy, less natural avenues she first pursues. 

Miss Jackson presents her readers with an almost archetypal figure of a 
woman in what must be one of womanhood's most desperate states: beautiful, 
full of life, in her sexual prime and hopelessly unfulfilled. Juxtaposed 
against this recognizable figure is her opposite counterpart in the newer 
generation, her son's girlfriend, equally beautiful and fresh, 
liberal-minded and bursting with love sexually fulfilled at an age when 
Katherine Beauchamp scarcely was able to comprehend the existence of 
natural, healthy male-female relationships. 

The complication which launches the series of episodes that carries 
Katherine to the very depths of depravity before she can emerge a whole 
woman, is another trait still all too common in even our contemporary 
society, Katherine's perverted channeling of what should have been her own 
natural sexual instincts into a twisted, possessive mother-love that makes 
it impossible for her to accept her son's natural and healthy relationship 
with a woman. She justifies her anger and indignation with the fact that her 
son is obviously having sex out of wedlock. What Katherine doesn't see, 
though it will not elude the reader, is that it is not the lack of a 
sanctimonious blessing, marriage, upon the act that offends her. It is the 
act itself, the fact of another woman being with her son. 

This novel is not, however, a call to incest. Rather, the writer is making a 
plea ultimately for sexual freedom within the bounds of the marriage union, 
a plea for healthy and mutual relationships between man and wife. That is 
the heroine's final goal, however unconscious of this she might be during 
the bulk of this narration. It is unfortunate that Katherine Beauchamp must 
have sex with her son before she can have meaningful sex with her husband. 
Even more unfortunate is the gauntlet of depravity she must run before she 
ismentally and emotionally prepared to cope with her incestuous longings. 
But the ultimate catastrophe, which the American reader cannot fail to 
recognize, is the frustration and unhappiness of eighteen years of marriage 
without fulfillment which the heroine and her husband have endured. 

For readers of Katherine Beauchamp's generation who recognize some aspects 
of her and her husband's plight in their personal situation, this factual 
novel is proof that it is not too late to make the changes that will lead to 
a fruitful relationship hopefully without going to the degrees to which the 
heroine was blindly driven. For younger married readers and single men or 
women the book can serve as a warning, can present them with an insight into 
some of the causes of the numerous "gaps" that have become indispensable 
terminology in any discussion of the ills of contemporary society. 

It is with pride and gratitude that the publishers present authoress Faye 
Jackson's shockingly vivid and realistic book. 

-The Publishers 

 CHAPTER ONE 

Katherine Beauchamp listened to the automobile approach, a low drone that 
began far away and drew ever so gradually louder. When she thought it was 
time for it to round the corner she went to the window and watched, yet knew 
from the sound of it, or from intuition, this would not be him. When it 
appeared that was confirmed; it wasn't the Volkswagen bus he'd written her 
about but a big green car, a Chrysler or Pontiac or one of those. She turned 
away as it whizzed past the mail box, sighed softly and then took a deep 
breath that expanded her bosom so she could feel the straps of her brassiere 
pull at the soft flesh of her shoulders. Through the open top of her blouse 
she saw the beginnings of her smooth, mounded breasts that flared out 
suddenly from her body, casting a vague, forbidden-looking shadow between 
them, straining at the bra cups which hid just the tips of her crimson, 
perforated nipples. 

Her gaze slipped on down her body: the sleek belly from which her pelvic 
bones flared suddenly, wide and lewdly inviting like a cradle in which 
nestled her lower abdomen and pubis, the "V" of it distinctly out-lined now 
in her tight pants, the lithely contoured thighs and very long, slender 
calves, the small thin ankles. At thirty-five, she had to admit, she was 
still a very beautiful woman. Then she looked up suddenly, flushing 
self-consciously, though she was alone and there should have been no reason 
for that, and paced in one circle around the kitchen. She was off balance 
today. And strange as it seemed, she dreaded her son Tom's arrival from San 
Francisco after his first summer away from home almost as much as she 
anticipated it. And her anticipation had become since his letter, an acute 
longing that permeated her being, an obsession that made everything except 
the passage of time, the arrival of that day, today, seem trivial and 
annoying. She wondered if after his promised week's visit she would miss him 
again as much as she'd missed him these last three months. She tried to tell 
herself she would not, that it was only the first separation that was so 
hard. 

Another car came and passed and again, still knowing it wasn't him, she went 
to the window and watched it. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee and 
sugared it and sat at the table and stroked her black silken hair, almost 
loath to drink it now and further jangle her already unsteady nerves. And 
once more her eyes went to her body. If anything, she thought, she was more 
attractive now than she had been at ... say ... seventeen when Tom was 
conceived. Then she'd been almost too sexy, too ripe and bursting with it, 
radiating it lewdly, her mother had always said. But she'd hardly been aware 
of that, or of the meanings of the looks she got from men when she walked 
down the street with her voluptuously ripe hips almost bursting out of the 
skimpy shorts that exposed and accentuated the beauty of her long bare legs. 
Sex, in any vivid sense of the act itself at least, was hardly a part of her 
consciousness then. She knew there was something people did that made 
babies, knew even without often thinking of it that it consisted of the man 
inserting his "Thing," while it was hard into the woman's vagina. But she 
thought that even knowing that she must never have pictured it as a reality, 
as something someday that would be done to her. It was just a dirty, distant 
thing, not to be thought about or talked about by respectable girls. 

Another distant drone caused her to perk up momentarily; then she realized 
it was an airplane and settled disconsolately back in her chair. She sipped 
the coffee without interest. Again the dread and the anticipation of her 
young son's arrival fought for balance in her mind. In two hours Paul would 
be back from the office. As that thought struck her she sensed an even 
greater urgency. Desperately she wanted Tom to arrive before his father got 
home. She wanted that moment, the first hug, the first glimpse of his lank, 
sinewy body and wild handsome face to be all hers. Or all hers and hisnot 
shared, anyway, by Paul, not dulled or somehow even tainted by that 
half-friendly, half-distant father and son banter and handshaking. Though 
she was surely a bitch for feeling that way. And where Tom was concerned and 
where his father and her husband were concerned perhaps she always had been 
a bitch. A remote memory popped into her mind, that she had not thought of 
in years, of something that Paul had once said not long after they were 
married, when Tom was still an infant: "The only sex kicks you get are 
nursing that goddamn baby." 

Perhaps it was true, she thought now. She had never in her life experienced 
that kind of pleasure. But it wasn't a dirty pleasure. It wasn't sex. It had 
been something pure, something almost holy. Another sigh escaped her, 
followed by a sob that though barely audible seemed to evoke in its soft 
sound all the sadness and longing that welled in her and surged through her 
body, from deep near her abdomen, through her limbs, in her heart and in 
those same vibrant and longing breasts that had nursed him so long ago. 

Almost consciously her hands moved up, almost touching them, waited hanging 
poised in the air inches away from the upflung breasts that strained against 
the blouse. Then, like a child reaching into a forbidden box of candy, she 
did touch herself, laying both her hands on the full firm breasts, squeezing 
and kneading them softly through the brassiere cups, teasing the nipples 
quickly to prickling points that made vivid protrusions through the flimsy 
bra and soft material of her blouse. 

Tom was a man now, she thought. He was eighteen and he'd lived on his own 
for a whole summer. He'd left New Mexico with less than a hundred dollars in 
his pocket and against her will had hitchhiked to San Francisco, where he'd 
known no one, had no contacts of any kind. He'd worked for three months on 
the waterfront and managed not only to make his way but to buy an automobile 
in the bargain. Now, instead of going to college in the fall as she and Paul 
had always planned, their son wanted to drive around Mexico for a month or 
two, then go to Central America. 

Suddenly she dropped her hands from her pulsating breast, breathing out 
heavily. A shiver of self-admonition passed through her body. Her hand moved 
up to softly stroke her long, black hair. Then she grasped the thick strands 
and twisted it into a tangle. Flustered, she left it tangled, removed her 
hand again and stood up. She couldn't understand what was happening to her. 
The dread and anticipation. Though there should have been no connection, she 
felt somewhat the way she'd felt that night so long ago when sex, the act 
itself, had suddenly become something real and pertinent in her life. 

Paul Beauchamp had grown up in a small town not far from where Katherine had 
lived in Arizona. He was a track star. He'd won the state championship in 
the mile run when he was a junior with a time of four minutes and a few odd 
seconds, which in those days was good enough to put him in the bracket of 
the most promising high school athletes. Numerous college teams were already 
bargaining for him. So were quite a few of the girls. But he was shy, 
studious, and sometimes seemed almost to abhor the attention that was heaped 
on him, and the flirtations and sometimes even outright propositions of the 
more forward and worldly-wise of the women. Katherine was one of the most 
beautiful girls in that part of the state. At sixteen she'd already 
developed a set of moderately sized yet flawlessly formed breasts; Her legs, 
which she regularly displayed each fall as she performed as a majorette with 
the high school band at football games, were renown as a subject of 
fascination. Her ass was ripe and rippling with invitation, bursting in her 
tight shorts that stretched thinly over the soft inviting crevice beneath 
her firmly rounded young buttocks. But even more renown than her legs was 
her reputation. She was known as a prick tease, but only to the boys who 
hadn't dated her. Those had called her frigid and uncooperative. 

And as far as she was concerned, most of them were just male animals. 
Sometimes she wondered why she occasionally accepted their frequent 
invitations. But something, some instinct or feeling that she had to date 
and even put up with some of the lunging and pawing or perhaps it was simply 
loneliness kept her going back for more. And it wasn't even so much that she 
should have minded being kissed, or even caressed a little bit in a decent 
manner. It was the way they went about it. Whether they were going to a 
movie and God forbid, never a drive-in or to an occasional party at 
someone's house or just to the local Dairy Queen Drive-in for a coke and 
some small talk as a prelude to the parking, the whole night, everything 
they said and did and pretended to be interested in, seemed to lead to that. 
They were obsessed with it. And when they began it was always rough and 
blundering, like words blurted out in anger. They came at her like animals, 
breathing hard, trembling, their adolescent hands clumsy and over-eager. She 
thought that was the thing that repulsed her most, their eagerness to do 
something that was dirty, their disregard for her as a human being with 
feelings, the relegation of her to an object of sex, a prize to be pawed and 
taken and used for motives that were purely hedonistic. 

It was probably only natural that she and Paul should have come together, 
though in the beginning she'd thought with him it would be the same as with 
the others. He'd met her at an inter-school function and they'd seen each 
other off and on and been on speaking terms for over a year. He called her 
once and invited her to go to a movie with him and afterwards took her to 
eat. Later, she would remember that she'd sensed something different in his 
attitude and conversation. It had seemed he was sincerely interested in the 
things he said, though now she couldn't even recall the topics. But at the 
time she must have presumed he was merely more skillful at concealing what 
was really on his mind. But when they'd finished eating he astonished her by 
driving her straight home, astonished her even further by simply talking to 
her, honestly and straight-forwardly in the car for a few moments outside 
the house. Then he walked her to the door and kissed her good night and said 
goodbye and left. But even the kiss had been different. There'd been 
something warm and honest in the way he'd done it, not groping, pawing, 
lunging, or slurping with his tongue. 

They began gradually to go out more often. Paul made a good impression on 
her mother, who previously had uncategorically refused approval of all the 
boys Katherine dated. After a while they did park when they went on dates, 
and they kissed and petted, and Katherine let him go much further than any 
of the other boys she'd gone out with. But that was because it was different 
with Paul. In his manner he still lacked that lunging desperation. When he 
touched or kissed her, she felt that it was all of her and not just her body 
that he wanted. Sometimes she even liked it a little, the feel of his lips 
on hers and his tongue snaking into her mouth, his body pressed against 
hers, mashing her sensitive, silken breasts, his hands touching her velvety 
smooth buttocks, caressing her softly rounded thighs from the outside of her 
dress or sometimes even, at least her lower thighs, from beneath it. And of 
course that was still a far cry from the sex act itself, from that horrible 
image that now occasionally did invade her consciousness, the thought of 
them actually naked, panting and moaning and wrestling, the thought of his 
male hardness, which at times inadvertently she had brushed with her hand 
and perceived, or felt prodding at her belly as they embraced, actually 
violating her chaste vagina. That was something they would do only after 
they were married, if they ever got married it had seemed to creep proposal; 
she was happy with Paul and she loved him and he felt the same way about her 
and respected her besides. But even thinking of it after they were married, 
it had a remoteness from her, or she had an immunity from it. She thought of 
it still with no more sense of its reality than her sense of the reality of 
pain of childbirth. 

Sometimes, he went too far for comfort. Once he managed to get her brassiere 
unbuttoned and his hands beneath her sweater. His fingers massaged them to 
maddening hardness, made inexplicable tingles emanate from her nipples and 
course like gentle shocks through her body. She liked it and at the same 
time she hated it. Most of all she feared it, something strange and unknown 
about the fluttering and surges of wanting that welled in her body. Then 
she'd felt his other hand slide beneath her skirt. A sigh escaped her and 
she heard his breathing, that harsh guttural gasping of breath that came too 
fast, like the breathing of the moronic sex maniacs she'd dated before. But 
even with the confusing revulsion she'd felt, she hadn't resisted as his 
hand moved up the cool soft flesh of her thighs, pushing them apart, 
stroking the taut inner tendon that ran down out of the elastic legband of 
her panties. Shivering, she put her arms around him, hugging his face to her 
swollen breasts that had popped out of the cups of her bra. Then she felt 
his finger wriggle up under the soft nylon crotchband of her panties, 
stroking and parting her thinly curling pubic fuzz, worming into the slit of 
her vagina and brushing and titillating her moist, tortuously throbbing 
little clitoris. 

She writhed sensuously beneath his touch, squirming her body down in the car 
seat so he could almost stretch out on top of her, at his urging even 
further parting her smooth, milk-white thighs, letting the tip of his middle 
finger begin to probe into the burning wet slit of her exposed little pussy 
mouth. 

Then she sobbed again and pushed his face from her breasts, struggling 
beneath him and clamping her thighs shut on his hand. She opened them again 
and grappled with him until she could push his hand from beneath her skirt. 

Reluctantly he slid off her and straightened up in the car seat. In a moment 
she also raised up and though she was unable to snap it, managed to at least 
fit the cups of the bra back over her tingling breasts. 

"You're right, I guess," he said grudgingly after they'd caught their 
breath. "We don't want to do it like this." 

She hadn't known what he meant then. It was two weeks later, a Sunday 
afternoon after Paul had broken the state high school record for the mile 
run, and had graduated and tentatively accepted a scholarship to New Mexico 
State University, that she found out what he'd meant by that. 

He'd taken her and her mother to church that morning, then had Sunday dinner 
with them. Then he and Katherine drove over to his parents house to spend 
the afternoon. She wasn't particularly surprised to find they weren't home; 
nor were her suspicions aroused when Paul told her they'd gone to 
Bakersfield, California and wouldn't be back until Monday night. They 
listened to a baseball game on the radio and Paul drank a couple of beers 
from the six pack his father kept in the icebox, something she'd never seen 
him do. After the game ended he got up and motioned for her to follow him. 
She did, still unsuspecting. Only when they got to his bedroom and she 
turned and saw the look in his eyes, a look of faint nervousness overwhelmed 
by a calm determination and a longing and an appreciation of her virginal, 
inviting body that though discomforting still was not quite tike the 
fanatical boyish lechery she used to see in the eyes of the boys she used to 
date, did she truly understand. 

She tried to meet his determined gaze and found herself unable to, averted 
her eyes and looked down at her body with an almost curious sheepishness. 
She was wearing a short sleeved sweater that buttoned down the front, that 
lay down in the crease between her breasts so they rose up like small 
pointed hills on each side of it. Her skirt and in those days they wore them 
below the knees nonetheless out-lined the lithe perfection of her thighs and 
was tight enough to accentuate the flare of her well ripened young buttocks. 

She looked up at him again and took a step backward toward the door, 
nervously shaking her head. 

"No, Paul." 

There was a look in his face she'd never seen before. In all that resolution 
in his eyes there was a frightening strength. She felt like cowering before 
it. Something in her, even at that instant, wanted to yield willingly to the 
sinful thing she knew without words he'd already distinctly proposed. But at 
the same time she was repulsed. And most of all she was afraid. 

"No," she said again. 

"Why not?" 

"I'm going back to the den," she stuttered. Hearing herself say it, it 
seemed absolutely a stupid thing. It probably was. 

He shook his head, half turned and walked over along side his bed. She 
started to go out of the room but his voice stopped her. 

"Come here, Katherine." She paused, looking over her shoulder back at him. 
Now he wasn't even watching her. "Relax and come over here and sit down. I'm 
not going to force you to do anything." 

She took two hesitant steps before he added: "I'm not going to have to force 
you." 

She stopped again, trembling, that mingling dread and anticipation making 
her mouth dry, her stomach flutter. 

"Paul? What are you ... ? We're going to wait ... until we're married?" 
Somehow that sounded foolish too. And Paul was shaking his head, now a look 
of condescension in his eyes. "I'm going," she blurted suddenly, trying to 
conjure some evidence of resolution in her own voice. 

"Home?" 

"Paul?" 

"Are you saying you want to go home?" 

"Paul?" 

"It won't even be possible for us to get married for at least a year. I 
don't want to wait that much longer." 

"I'm a virgin, Paul. And ... and I want to be a virgin ... for you ... when 
we are married." 

Even that, somehow, was a lie. She'd never thought about wanting to be a 
virgin for him. 

"I am too," he said with a remarkable calmness. "And I don't want to be 
anymore. And I want the first time to be with you, because I love you. Not 
with someone I don't care anything about." 

That, somehow, did it. Though she still hadn't consciously yielded, it must 
have been inevitable as she walked toward him, thinking she walked there 
because she wanted just to embrace him, out of gratitude for saying that, 
out of love for him, but still not quite admitting that she was going to do 
what he asked. 

But his determination was not going to waiver. He took her into his arms 
when she reached him, clinging her light supple body to his, his lips 
covering hers and his tongue warring with hers for a place in her mouth, his 
hands roving forcefully over her back, squeezing her and crushing her to 
him. 

She only faintly struggled as he unbuttoned the sweater and pulled it apart, 
revealing the upper half of her luxurious breasts pushed up high and 
together by her brassiere, the rich amber hue of her flesh heightened by the 
white of her slip. 

"No, Paul," she murmured faintly through her own heightened breathing as he 
pushed the sweater off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind 
her. 

Then he took her face in his hands, a palm on each of her cheeks, and tilted 
it up toward his own. He looked down at her with a smile that though still 
resolute was almost tender. 

"Take your slip off." 

"No." 

"Yes." 

"I ... I might get pregnant." 

"I have something for that. Take your slip off and get into bed." 

He kissed her lightly, then stepped back and began to unbutton his shirt. 
Unbelieving, she watched him. But the uncanny stirring in her loins was only 
heightened by the sight of his lean, muscular torso. Scarcely believing it 
was really happening to her, the fear and the dread waging a seeming 
death-grip struggle in her mind, she peeled the slip over her head, reached 
behind her back and unfastened the bra, hunched her shoulders to let it 
slither off her arms. A sob of incredulity escaped her as she saw her 
flawless bared breasts exposed, as she was aware of the almost incredible 
beauty of their bursting firmness, of the pert swollen nipples, rich and 
dark-colored, and was aware that Paul also was seeing them for the first 
time. And beneath the soft flimsy covering of her silken panties, which now 
was all that protected her, she knew he could also see the lovely forbidden 
shadow of triangle of her pubic hair. She dropped her hands into the 
waistband of her panties, still struggling against both the fear and the 
desire. She wanted to turn, even now, and run from the room. But the mere 
touch of her own hands there on the silken flesh of her belly sent currents 
of irrefutable desire through her. In a sudden, almost impulsive gesture she 
rolled them down over her hips, balanced on one leg and worked the other 
out, then stood, naked, like a young Grecian goddess before him. 

She watched with a strange combination of fascination and horror as he 
pulled off his trousers. Even before he removed his underwear she could see 
the incredible bulge of his engorged cock, standing up like a tent pole in 
his drawers. But when he pulled them off a gasp of fear burst from her. It 
was even more bigger and more frightening than she had imagined, almost 
purple with the blood that filled it, far too huge to ever fit up inside her 
small, virginally tight vagina. 

"No, Paul," she whimpered as he approached her. 

His eyes, with a deep appreciation, traversed the length of her nakedly 
trembling young body. Then he pulled her to him again, kissing her 
passionately, one of his hands kneading gently at her firmly quivering 
breasts and the other squeezing her smoothly flaring buttocks, his finger 
snaking between the softly giving crevice between the warm white moons to 
miraculously curl beneath them, and find the exposed little slit of her 
vagina nestled in the sparsely growing pubic hair that was already slightly 
damp with her involuntarily rising pussy juices. 

After that it seemed almost to happen too fast. She was in a delirium of 
mingled terror and desire. He'd pushed her onto the bed on her back, kissing 
and sucking the hardened little nipples of her breasts, his hands roving 
over her smooth belly and between her silken thighs to stroke her pleading 
clitoris and gently probe at the slick wet lips of her cunt. After a while, 
though it could have been only moments or might have been some time, he'd 
rolled off her and leaned off the bed to get something out of his trousers. 
She watched out of the corner of her eyes as he unwrapped the foil with 
trembling fingers to reveal the thinly transparent rubber sheath and fit it 
over the end of his hardened cock. Unrolled on it, it looked like a tight, 
clear-plastic balloon. 

She'd said no again and she thought she struggled with him as he'd rolled 
back upon her and spread her thighs apart with his knees. She cried as she 
felt his huge, rubber-enclosed young penis prod between them, felt his hands 
seek out her vaginal cunt and fit it slowly into the tight fleshy lips. Then 
she screamed and saw red as the blinding pain surged through her, as she 
felt the enormous thing cutting into her, going where it could not go, where 
there was no place for it, inching its way in slowly as he covered and 
filled her mouth with his wetly swirling tongue to smother her scream. 

Nor did she know how long it had lasted. She remembered that at last it 
seemed it had been all the way in her, or as deep as it would go in her 
overfilled young belly, and the pain had sought a level and didn't increase 
further, only came in sporadic flashes as he began the slow, in-and-out 
fucking motion, as he again began to gently caress the other parts of her 
body even as he tortured her violated vaginal cavity. She may even have 
blanked out for a time. 

It seemed that all too soon she had felt his penis expand suddenly deep up 
inside her and explode and it was over and she was awake again, but a 
delirious kind of consciousness, and he'd finished and lain still upon her, 
the size of his excited male hardness that filled her gradually diminishing. 
Then he withdrew and looked at her sheepishly. 

"Katherine, honey, I've lost the rubber up in you. Let me put my finger in 
and get it out." 

She stared at him incredulously, then screamed and pushed him away. She got 
up and ran naked to the bathroom, and filled with shame she searched inside, 
her fingers sending stabs of pain through her, until she found it and threw 
the bloody, sperm-dripping thing into the toilet. 

She returned from her reverie suddenly, with a vague disorientation, as 
though her spirit had flown with her wandering mind and on their return to 
this time and place they hadn't quite rejoined. 

She couldn't quite believe the sound she heard, the sputtering of an 
automobile engine in front of the house. She sat and listened to it dumbly. 
Then it stopped and she heard the beeping of a horn, then the slam of a 
door. She jumped up suddenly, breathless. She had the strangest impulse, 
that she had to get to a mirror and make sure she was arranged, was looking 
her best, before he saw her. But instead she chided herself for her vanity 
at a time like this and ran to the front door. 

He was standing beside the Volkswagen, tall, still handsome and 
young-looking and healthy, his hair a little bushier and sideburns longer 
than when she'd last seen him, even at this distance a glint in his eye he 
had not had three months ago, but all in all looking no worse for his time 
away. 

"Mom!" 

Then she was going through the door, bounding down the steps and running; 
then she was in his strong long arms, against his hard chest, sobbing, 
mashing her soft bosom, her face buried to hide the happy tears. She felt 
his strong but gentle hands move over her back, felt his chin snuggle 
against her head. Then, after a joyous moment of the sensation of her son's 
body against her own, he was pushing her gently back. 

"Mom," he whispered. "Mom. I want you to meet my girl friend. Lys." 

She drew away suddenly, a lump in her throat, her face wrinkled with 
bitterness even before she saw the tiny blond girl in obscenely tight shorts 
and a skimpy halter that hid only her nipples and a little bit of the 
golden-tanned skin around them, with waist length hair that looked fluffy as 
golden fleece, supple thighs, tanned like her breasts with a silken coat of 
downy hair on them bleached white by sun to make the tan look even richer, 
and almost barefoot in a pair of flat wood sandals that laced with thin 
leather thongs almost to her knees to give a curious, almost Egyptian slave 
effect. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Katherine didn't know at first if it was a sound that had awakened her, or 
her shattered nerves, or if she had not been asleep at all, merely lulling 
in a conscious dream of escape from which reality had brutally wrenched her 
back. 

The darkness in her bedroom was impenetrable. Beside her she could hear her 
husband, Paul's, even breathing. Beyond that, now silence. Yet she waited 
still, listening intently for some movement in the other part of the house. 

That Tom might someday come home with a girl like this one had never entered 
Katherine's mind. On fleeting occasions she had allowed herself to realize 
that he was becoming a man, a handsome man with a man's body, and that he 
inevitably would attract a number of women wherever he was. And of course 
he'd been popular and dated a lot in high school. A couple of the girls he'd 
gone out with had even worried her some, though she was certain she'd never 
shown it, either because they had reputations for or exuded an air of 
sexuality, or because she thought Tom liked them a little too much. But 
there had been nothing serious. She'd never had to face the fact, by virtue 
of any direct evidence, that he'd been to bed with a woman. And she'd always 
taken for granted that someday he'd meet a girl and become engaged, 
eventually marry her. But that had been a dream, she thought, like long ago 
sex had been: not a part of her reality but something far off in a distant 
and dubious future. And to further isolate herself from this eventuality, 
she'd fabricated for this role a vague picture of an angelic and pure 
creature, radiating chastity and spirituality. This girl radiated sex! 

It was not just her skimpy dress, or her walk, that was a musical shuffle in 
which her entire scarcely cloaked body seemed to roll, to undulate in 
evocation of a movement done more commonly in a non-upright position. Nor 
was it that look of invitation in her crystal blue eyes and on her pursed 
sultry lips, a look she seemed to reserve not just for her boyfriend, but 
for everyone, Paul, even Katherine, a look of open invitation that combined 
challenge and surrender. Nor was it just her beautiful body, the hard round 
buttocks that looked as if they would tear out of her shorts if she bent 
over to pick up something she'd dropped, or her breasts, which even in the 
skimpy halter revealed all their magnificent shape, that were not large yet 
still were overbearing and obtrusive perhaps so even in the mere fact of 
their perfection. Nor her beautiful face. It was all this and more, to the 
very air around her. An air of hedonism and sexuality. And it had taken 
Katherine only minutes to see that Tom was blinded by it completely. Later 
at dinner it seemed that Paul was just as taken in. There was a look in his 
eyes Katherine, thankfully, did not often see anymore. 

But something else about the girl irritated her almost even more. The fact 
that she was not ashamed of it; rather, she was proud, but even that was a 
pride without arrogance. And of course she had sensed Katherine's immediate 
and unyielding animosity toward her, a hatred she'd not been able to cloak 
even after the initial shock had dispersed, that had lingered through a 
tense dinner and difficult conversation afterwards until they'd all had the 
chance of escape afforded by a couple of remarkably almost passable T.V. 
programs. But the girl's response had not been any of the things Katherine 
might have expected. She had not been ruffled at all. She was neither 
bitter, aloof nor flaunting. Even in the face of Katherine's bursting, 
thwarted rage, which had vexed even Tom and Paul, she seemed warm and open, 
almost loving. Something about it made Katherine's skin crawl. 

Suddenly she stiffened in bed. Now she did hear a sound, the sound she knew 
must have awakened her, must have suspected even then and been waiting for 
confirmation of those suspicions. It was from the guest bedroom, where she'd 
grudgingly put the girl up. The first sound must have been when the girl had 
got out of bed. Now she was opening the door, now walking down the hall past 
the door to Katherine and Paul's room, now turning off through the patio. 
She knew, as she'd known all along from the instant she'd first suspected 
the sounds, that there was only one place she could be going. She had her 
own bath adjoining the guest room and to get to the kitchen she should have 
continued on along the hall. The little vixen was going to Tom's room! 

She lay motionless and silent for a long time, listening though she knew it 
would be impossible to hear anything less than a real racket from there. 
Then she rolled onto her side, and curled her legs up almost to her breasts. 
She imagined what must be happening in that room now, and the lurid visions 
that raced through her mind made her shiver. She squeezed her eyes tight and 
held her breath, gritted her teeth and stiffened her body until she almost 
shook. But she couldn't get the visions out of her mind. In a few minutes, 
or maybe they'd even started already, her son was going to be having sex 
with that girl, right here in his own mother's house. The thought of it was 
almost more than she could stand. She felt insulted and repulsed, as if the 
shock she'd already been through today was only being compounded, as if 
she'd been defeated already, and now they were trodding her into the ground. 
She felt like a heartbroken woman who's man had run off with a slut, then 
come back and moved with her into the house across the street. 

But she had to hear it, the sounds of whatever lewd thing it was they were 
going to do or were already doing in Tom's room. She had to, no matter how 
repulsive an act it would be for her to eavesdrop, no matter how much more 
what she heard would hurt her. 

Once she'd decided to make certain of what they were doing, it was as if 
nothing could stop her. Impelled by her obscene craving she slithered naked 
from beneath the sheets, in the darkness found her way to the closet and 
pulled her flimsy robe from the door. Clutching it loosely together at her 
waist, not bothering to tie the sash and leaving her unencumbered breasts to 
swing freely in front of her in the cool night air, the nipples swelling 
with an exciting tingle, she fled out the door and down the hall. Behind her 
she heard her husband shift in the bed, but he was a sound sleeper. She knew 
he wouldn't awake. 

In the patio she paused at the entrance to the small foyer that gave way to 
her son's room. Through the skylight the almost full moon shined, casting a 
soft and eerie light over her flimsily cloaked body. The nylon robe clung to 
her flesh like a thin veil, revealing all her luxurious contours. In this 
light, her silken body glowed darkly, the combination of shadows and 
illumination defining the soft curves of her breasts and satin thighs 
revealed beneath the short gown. 

What am I doing? she thought. To come here intentionally to eavesdrop on 
this wicked thing is as terrible as the act itself. But she didn't turn 
back. She tip-toed into the foyer, before her a crack of light that marked 
Tom's partially opened door, listening intently. 

For a moment she heard nothing. She seized the fleeting hope that perhaps 
she'd been mistaken, that the shameless young girl that had taken her son 
had merely gotten confused and followed the wrong route to the kitchen. And 
as that idea flashed in her mind, she felt a strange, sinking, an 
inexplicable let down. She understood suddenly that she did want the act to 
happen, did want to hear it. She wanted it proven to herself once and for 
all that her suspicions and her dislike of the girl were well-founded and 
not mere fantasies of an estranged imagination. 

Two steps closer to the door and now she was a mere four or five feet away 
from it she stopped again. A wave of relief, yet a terrible kind of relief, 
flowed through her as she heard a woman's soft moan, light and frivolous, 
almost like a giggle. 

Then she heard Tom's voice: "Lys, I feel terrible about the way my mother 
treated you tonight." 

Had the girl come here just to talk to him? she thought with a wave of 
indignation. "It's all right," the girl said. "No. It's not all right." 

"She just doesn't understand," Lys said. "She's from another generation. 
Their hang-ups hover above them like a cornucopia, a great weight spilling 
over them. It's not her fault. They don't know what the joy is, of giving 
your body freely, of loving without guilt. And they can't help but resent 
someone who does know how to do it." 

Katherine felt the hatred well in her with a flourish. The vile, 
condescending bitch! Then Lys added: "I just hope that before we leave for 
Mexico I can change that. Make her understand, maybe even like me." 

She wanted to burst through the door at that, screaming that she would never 
accept her, never accept a moralless little whore who had corrupted her son 
and who was flagrantly flaunting that fact in his mother's own house. 

Then a soft purr from the bedroom stopped her. She froze, listening to the 
girl giggle, listening to the shifting movement of their two bodies on the 
bed that made the springs creak softly. 

"Hey, do that again." She heard Tom say. 

Katherine's body stiffened with expectation. She waited. Again she heard a 
shifting on the bed. 

"Lower," her son moaned. Then he sighed softly, then said, "You have the 
most beautiful tits in the world. Rub it with the nipples ... Yes. Like 
that." 

For a moment she didn't understand. Then her mind conjured the image, and as 
if to confirm that Tom said: "Push them together and squeeze it between 
them." He sighed again. "Yes, like that." 

He was thrusting it up between her breasts. His penis, which must now bear 
little or no resemblance to the cute and tiny little thing she remembered 
from his childhood, but rather be like Paul's as it had looked to her that 
first night: ugly and grotesquely large, threatening and yet in the threat 
somehow weirdly beautiful, the way an extremely homely face can reach a 
state of grotesquerie that makes it beautiful like a craggy chiseled 
sculpture. And with that penis he was screwing her, fucking her was what 
they'd no doubt call it as she knew that word had become commonplace in the 
language of the younger generation, between those small, wide and high 
breasts with the big pointed nipples that had looked like darts almost 
punching through her flimsy halter. They would be goose bumped now, as her 
own were, the nipples swollen and tingling, with her son's heated male 
hardness tunneling up between them, agitating their vibrant softness, making 
them swell even harder and fuller. 

For a long time she listened to the silence. They said nothing. Then she 
heard her son moan deeply. "Yes," he gasped. "Lower. Lower ... Suck it in 
your mouth, Lys. All of it!" 

She didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to see the vision that 
imprinted itself on her unwilling mind. The feelings that surged through her 
own body at the thought of it, at the thought of that girl or any girl 
taking her son's or any man's penis in her mouth, sucking and kissing it 
like a child with a sucker, repulsed her. She felt almost sick at her 
stomach; yet it was a light and nervous kind of nausea that sent tingles 
fluttering through her being, like fear on an empty stomach. 

Unconsciously her hand touched her stomach. She'd no longer bothered to hold 
the robe together and it hung wide open to reveal the splendor of her naked 
breasts, which were larger and longer and more mature than Lys's, her downy 
belly laying small and flat between her flaring pelvic bones, and there 
between her lush thighs that foreboding triangle of darkly curling pubic 
hair. Furtively her hand crept down her belly and into the waiting curls 
which felt so soft and silken to her fingers. She uttered a muffled sob as 
her hand touched the ripe, moist bud of her clitoris. Again her mind cried 
out silently: what am I doing? But she couldn't stop The obscene, electric 
twinges that shot through her demanded more. Lewdly, she began to massage 
that soft delicate pulsating bud rapidly with her finger. 

"Ohhhhh, Jesus!" Tom moaned. She heard a bouncing sound on the bed that she 
knew could mean only one thing. He was actually thrusting it in and out of 
her now, using her mouth the way a man used a vagina. And he was probably 
holding her head, by the hair or by her ears, shoving his cock deeply and 
viciously into her open mouth between those full pouty lips of the young 
girl. A lurid triumph surged in her. The image was so debasing and 
degrading. In a strange way she loved the thought of it. Of her son using 
that woman's mouth as a receptacle for his virile young semen, using her 
mouth as if it were nothing more than a thin, hairless cunt to be fucked 
until it made his waiting testicles explode with orgasm. 

"I'm going to cum in a minute," he said quietly, almost with a calm in his 
voice, a matter of factness. 

The girl made a nearly unintelligible sound, but the meaning of it was clear 
enough: yes. With her mouth filled, her lips stretched wide and the huge 
male hardness pounding all the way back to her tonsils, she was saying yes 
to the prospect of having its milk-white semen spewed deep into her throat! 

Though the thought nauseated her even further, Katherine still felt the 
surging triumph, the confirmation of all her suspicions about the girl, as 
she head the unmistakable sounds, the gasping and grunting and the rapid 
pounding of the bed, as Tom shot off in her mouth and the girl noisily 
swallowed it down. 

Then they were silent suddenly and she had to stop the frantic ministrations 
of her own hand on her tortured and pleading clitoris. Then there was one 
last noise, though maybe she only imagined it: she thought she heard the 
girl gurgle, swallowing. 

"Now your turn," Lys said. 

Katherine almost fell to her knees. She hadn't dreamed that would come next, 
that the situation would be reversed and that her son, of whose masculine 
young virility she'd become these last few moments almost proud in a lurid 
obscene way, would allow his mouth to also be used that way. She'd heard of 
it, but she thought she only had half-believed it. That a man would do that 
to a woman. Eat her pussy, they called it. 

"Put the pillow under your ass," Tom said. "Like this and your cunt way up 
with your legs spread wide." 

She started to turn and run sobbing back to her bedroom. She wanted to 
escape, to wake up and find this had all been a dream, not just this but 
everything that had happened since her eighteen year old son had come home. 
But instead she took two more steps forward, so close to the door she could 
have pressed her face to it, and she gazed through the crack of it and saw 
in the dresser mirror the reflection of the two figures on the bed. Her 
son's girlfriend was lying flat on her back, her arms extended up in a wide 
"V" above her head to grasp the bedstead, her thighs spread wide and her 
feet planted out to the sides to give leverage to her hips, which were 
propped up high by the two pillows beneath them. Kneeling at the foot of the 
bed between her parted thighs, leaning forward just now to kiss her exposed, 
golden-haired young pussy was her son Tom! Katherine's hands returned to her 
own loins and sobbing with almost masochistic joy, she resumed her frenzied 
fingering of herself up between her open thighs. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Katherine could hardly face her family, and the hated, strange girl who had 
invaded it, the next morning at breakfast. The things she had seen the night 
before, and the terrible odd thing she had done to herself in her crazed 
delirium, seemed like something out of an old, almost forgotten dream, a 
nightmare whose memory crept with eerie surrealism into the present. But she 
knew it was real. 

What she could hardly believe was that they seemed not the least bit ashamed 
about it, not at all worried about what she might think. Of course they 
should have had no reason to suspect that she had heard and seen them. But 
the mere fact that they had done it in her house, so close to her, should 
have shown on their faces, she thought. But nothing showed. Tom seemed 
almost his old self and displayed none of the bitterness toward Katherine 
she had detected in his voice last night when she'd first gone out into the 
hallway to listen to them. He was going into town to see some of his old 
friends, whom he was confident he would find at their old hang out at the 
pool hall. He was anxious to see them and in the best of spirits, and he 
displayed an appetite comparable to the one he used to have when he played 
high school football. His mother found it hard to believe he was the same 
young boy she'd seen last night, kneeling like a slave between the blonde's 
spread legs, licking hungrily at the wetly throbbing slit of her 
silken-haired cunt. 

Lys had an air of guiltlessness and contentment that vexed Katherine 
terribly. It exuded from her, like the sexuality, a mood of innocence and 
joy that Katherine felt mocked her in her own guilt and disgust. Worse, she 
had to admit this morning that the girl was beautiful. She was wearing a 
man's shirt, tied up in a knot just below her breasts, and no brassiere so 
that their wide full shape could be clearly seen, the nipples hardened by 
the material brushing over them, easily distinguished. Her skin-tight levis 
out-lined the curvaceous swells of her buttocks and the provocative "V" of 
her crotch, and hung low on her hips, far below the dark hole of her navel, 
adorned by that silken peach-fuzz hair bleached by the sun that had turned 
her skin golden, almost bronze. And still the lewd sexuality radiated from 
her. Every movement she made, very look in her eyes evoked images that 
recalled the scene Katherine had witnessed last night. She and her husband, 
Paul, got involved in a conversation, and though Tom seemed unruffled it 
looked to Katherine as though she were trying now to come on to her 
boyfriend's father. The way she smiled at him, touched his hand as she tried 
to make a point in her conversation, the way she threw her shoulders back 
and arched her bosom in his face all of it seemed to Katherine as an open 
invitation. But she decided that was absurd. Her "hang ups", as Lys had 
called them last night, must have caused her imagination to get carried 
away. That was too much for her to suspect. 

Though she didn't look forward to the errand she had to run in Albuquerque 
that morning, Katherine was almost relieved to have an excuse to leave the 
house and not have to confront the participants in last night's horrible 
scene. And maybe, she tried to tell herself, it wasn't really that bad. 
Maybe if she had a little time to herself she would feel better. She left 
the dishes for later, said a curt goodbye and took Paul's Ford and left. 

Three miles past town the car began to veer and she realized she had a flat. 
She pulled off the road and got out to check. It was the right rear. While 
she was waiting for someone to come by she could stop for help, the right 
front started going down also. 

Paul Beauchamp sat at the kitchen table and drank a third cup of coffee 
while he watched his young son's girlfriend clean up the morning dishes. His 
son had done goddamn well for himself to the extent that beyond what he 
supposed was a father's natural pride, he was envious. And he knew that as 
long as Tom was with this girl he would never have to appreciate the hell of 
living with, and in spite of it loving, a woman who was as frigid as his 
mother. 

But there was something vaguely disquieting about his feelings as he watched 
her stand at the sink, her back to him, and wash the dishes. The flimsy 
shirt distinctly out-lined the soft curves of her shoulders. Beneath her 
arms he could just glimpse the sides of her full breasts. Above the levis 
and beneath where the shirt was tied up there were eight or nine inches of 
bronzed, bare flesh, the curve of her back gently swayed, the fine line of 
her spine deeply indented. Just above the low-hanging pants he could see two 
deep dimples and in the tight levis the hems of her panties stretched tight 
and high on her smoothly rounded young buttocks. And hanging down from her 
head almost to where he knew the top of the tight little anal crevice should 
begin was her fleecy, golden hair. 

All these years of living with Katherine, of finding only rarely the 
satisfying experience a man needed with some strange woman he managed to 
pick up, had done nothing to dull Paul Beauchamp's sexual appetite. 
Strangely, he did still love his wife. And he loved his son and was happy 
for him, happy he'd found such a good looking young woman and one who 
obviously would do whatever she had to to satisfy her man in bed. He was 
glad the thoughts now going through his own mind, the fantasies he was 
having about this golden-haired nymphet, were only dreams. He took security 
in the fact that though her almost every move, and every look she'd given 
him as they were talking earlier at the breakfast table, seemed to be a 
flagrant sexual invitation to him, it meant nothing. It was just her way. 
Just part of her young adolescent charm. 

Lys finished drying the dishes and turned back to the table. She smiled down 
at him with a splendid combination of bashfulness and sexuality. After a 
moment's hesitation she sat down across from him. Paul's eyes dropped from 
her face to her breasts, then to the patch of exposed, sun-tanned skin at 
her belly. Then he looked up suddenly, embarrassed, and coughed nervously. 
The back of his neck was burning and he could feel the sweat beneath his 
arms. 

But her smile hadn't changed and she hadn't taken her eyes from him. And she 
seemed unperturbed by the silence that for Paul had become extremely 
uncomfortable. It seemed strange now that only a short time ago, with the 
cushion of Katherine and Tom's presence, they'd been talking easily about 
topics that ranged from camping to the idiosyncrasies in the way Mexicans in 
New Mexico spoke the Spanish language. 

"Have you known Tom long?" he managed to blurt finally, though that question 
under the circumstances seemed somehow as banal as two old maids discussing 
a celebrity at a bus stop. 

And she seemed to wait, to let that banality sink in, before she answered 
still without changing the tone of her smile, with a slight, suggestive 
shrug: "I met him at an orgy party and we hit it off right away." 

Paul coughed again. He could hardly believe he'd heard her right. Though he 
knew he had. And he didn't know how she expected him to respond to it or 
what from a more general viewpoint that response should be. Again he felt 
envy that his son should have been to an orgy; he'd never been to one 
himself of course, and it seemed quite feasible that he never would. And he 
felt like an old fogy, completely out of tune with the times. And still, 
with the envy, he felt a father's pride. 

"Does that shock you?" 

"NO!" he said almost too quickly. And he knew he was flushing. 

"We've been together almost two months," she said, and added: "And I guess 
we'll stay together a long time. I think we fit." 

Somehow that made him feel better, quelled to an extent the idea that had 
entered his mind. He downed the last sip of his coffee and lit a cigarette, 
avoiding her with his eyes. 

"I think I'm going to take a shower," she said. 

"Fine." 

He looked back at her. The smile had gone and now she was watching him 
intently, almost seriously. Again, his remark sounded silly after he'd said 
it. 

Gradually it became apparent she was waiting for something else before she 
did go to shower. She still sat, watching him in that same disquieting way. 
Perhaps though she'd already learned where the main bathroom was situated, 
she still expected to be shown there. Perhaps she wanted him to get her a 
towel. 

Once this possibility had entered his mind, he moved almost too fast. 
Awkward and impulsive, he felt like a clumsy bear. He muttered something 
about how stupid he'd been, let him get her a towel, and got up and started 
out of the kitchen. He sensed her presence behind him and felt certain she 
was laughing at him inwardly. 

The bath, like the rest of the Beauchamp's home, was done luxuriously with 
the Spanish influence that dominates the architecture in that part of New 
Mexico. It was spacious with a high ceiling and a small, high window. The 
tiles of the wall looked not like bath tiles but the tiles on the walls in 
old Mexican houses. The shower itself was situated over the bathtub, which 
would have been large enough for two people to lounge in easily. 

Paul clicked on the light for Lys and got her a towel from the cupboard. 
When he turned back to her he was surprised to see she'd already started 
unbuttoning her shirt, and he couldn't help an instant's staring at the 
small luscious breasts, the inner halves of them exquisitely exposed. Then 
he looked quickly away and with a trembling hand gave her the towel. She 
took it, leaving the shirt to hang loose on her breasts, held only by the 
knot beneath them. She was still watching him in that same disquieting way. 
Stumbling, he turned and made an awkward exit. He still felt she must be 
laughing at him. 

It must have been the absence of the sound of the door closing that caused 
him to stop halfway down the hall and look back. What he saw caused a shock, 
and a surge of lurching sexual excitement in his loins that almost drove him 
mad. 

She'd left the door open. Whether or not that was intentional he couldn't 
know, but in any event it was wide open. She had her back to the door. The 
shirt lay on the floor at her feet. He didn't know whether she knew he was 
watching or not. Almost, he didn't care. The flesh of her nudely exposed 
back was the loveliest he thought he'd ever seen: evenly hued golden, 
unbroken beneath the shoulder blades where the white line of a bikini top 
would have been expected. Against the bare, deeply tanned flesh her almost 
three feet of golden hair looked even more fleecy, and the curves of her 
shoulders, the shadows beneath her arms where he glimpsed her breasts, the 
thin narrow waist and those dimples above her curvaceous little buttocks 
he'd seen earlier drove him to a frenzy of desire. 

Then, as he stood watching her, with his breath coming in sudden harsh 
gusts, she undid the tight levis and wriggled out of them, slowly and 
sensuously peeling them off her flesh as if they were of an outer layer of 
skin, causing Paul's desire to spiral toward a pinnacle with each new inch 
of the golden flesh she exposed. 

At last, her velvety, cleft buttocks bared, she dropped the levis and her 
panties with them to her ankles. Then just as slowly and sensuously as she 
peeled them from her hips, she bent down to work one pants leg off an ankle, 
thrusting her buttocks up in the air with the movement, causing them to 
spread slightly so he could see the small dark circle of her tiny puckered 
anus, then below it the thin curling strands of her sparse young pussy hair 
and the juicy pink slit of her naked cuntal lips. Her buttocks were the same 
even golden tanned color as the rest of her body. 

Paul swallowed hard, afraid she would turn suddenly and see him lewdly 
staring at her, yet still unable to draw his eyes away. Then she stepped out 
of the other pants leg, straightened up and did turn, almost profiled to 
him; but giving no sign that she'd seen him she stepped out of his sight 
into the shower. by the time he got back to the kitchen and poured himself 
another cup of coffee from the pot, now lukewarm, on the stove, Paul's heart 
was pounding so fast he thought his chest would burst. He'd broken out in a 
feverish sweat and his breath was quick and hoarse. In his trousers he could 
feel his cock, swollen to its full size, straining uncomfortably against the 
material of his shorts. He reached down and arranged it so it pointed upward 
in a better, less tantalizing fit. 

Paul could hardly believe what he'd just seen. It seemed incredulous that 
the girl could have just forgotten to close the bathroom door, that her 
exposure of her golden body had been accidental. 

But he knew he couldn't surmise the obvious meaning. That was unthinkable. 
He concluded that the thing that had just happened must be another product 
of the changing times. Nudity probably meant little or nothing to her 
generation. Perhaps in itself it wasn't an offer of sex. Perhaps she had not 
even thought he would look at her, or had not presumed he would draw what 
for him were the only obvious conclusions if he did. 

Again he remembered what she'd said, that she'd met Tom at an orgy. And 
she'd said that with the nonchalance she might have applied in saying she 
had met him at a cocktail party. And she said they'd hit it off. That could 
mean only one thing. He wondered how many other young girls his son had 
fucked that night before her turn with Tom. The thought of it, the images 
that flashed in his mind of a number of beautiful women, writhing in the 
throes of sexual frenzy, dancing nude, fucking madly on the floor beside 
other madly fucking couples or trios or quartets, and the vision of his son 
finding Lys in all this madness, getting acquainted by fucking perhaps 
before they'd even seen each other with their clothing on or knew each 
other's names, made the waves of longing that were driving him out of his 
mind even more acute and shattering. 

And he could not help but compare that world to his own: the occasional lay 
with a strange woman, the dull parties with their family friends or his 
associates at the office, the dull sexual banter between the bored married 
couples, most of whom deep inside would probably love to tear their clothing 
off and lose themselves in a wild bacchanal orgy, yet would probably never 
quite be able to bring themselves to do it; and his occasional romp with his 
wife, who begrudged him the rare pleasures of a body that though beautiful 
and alluring as any he'd ever seen was dormant, sexually, still unawakened 
despite every thing he'd tried. It was a dismal vision, dark pale in 
comparison to the world he imagined his son must live in when he was away 
from home. 

Paul took a last taste of the coffee and decided he didn't want it. He stood 
up restlessly, wondering what to do next. He couldn't sit still, and though 
he would have liked to leave the house for a while, to escape the 
unthinkable thoughts that had burrowed into his mind, he couldn't. For one 
thing, he couldn't quite bring himself to do it, to miss out on the 
possibility of another look at the young blonde's beguiling body. And 
anyway, he was her host until this afternoon when either Tom or Katherine 
returned. It would be impolite. And she would probably know he'd left 
because he was afraid of her. 

He walked out of the kitchen and went down the hall, skirting the patio. He 
hadn't really thought of where he was going, but it was hardly a surprise to 
him when he found himself back at the entrance of the short corridor that 
lead to the bathroom door, where moments ago he'd watched Lys undress. What 
did surprise him was that though he could see her shirt and levis were still 
lying on the floor where she'd dropped them, the bath was now apparently 
unoccupied. He couldn't hear the shower running and the light was switched 
off. 

But he was furtive as he crept down the hall. He paused at the door, waging 
a struggle with himself, frightened that suddenly she would pop from the 
shower into his view, presuming he'd come to peek on her, yet still unable 
to resist satisfying himself that in fact she was not in there. After a 
moment he rallied his courage and stuck his head in with all the caution of 
a burglar checking a layout. It was empty. Just a trace of steam still hung 
in the air, and though he thought it must be his imagination, a faint aroma 
of a woman's freshly washed and perfumed body. 

"I'm here," she said behind him. 

The voice startled him so much he almost jumped into the tub. Then, 
red-faced with embarrassment, he turned to see Lys standing at the entrance 
to the corridor, a damp white towel clutched loosely around her body which 
glistened with moisture, her breasts scarcely concealed at the top of it, 
her upper thighs and a few golden tufts of silky-moistened pubic hair 
revealed at the bottom between her legs. 

"II thought you must have finished and ... " She laughed at him, causing her 
unencumbered breasts to jostle tantalizingly. Flustered, he tried to think 
of something to say. Unable, he felt a futile anger welling in him. 

"Don't be so uptight," she said. 

"Well, I just ... " 

"I said don't be so uptight." 

She smiled at him, warmly, a smile that seemed to say she understood that he 
was a man with all a man's natural instincts and what he'd just appeared to 
be doing was almost to be expected. But that only increased his 
embarrassment. 

"I was in the patio. You get the sun out there and I thought I might lay 
down for a while." Then she lowered her head, almost closing her eyes, yet 
looking with them up at him from beneath the lashed lids. "You're looking a 
little pale yourself. Why don't you come with me?" 

"I don't think ... " 

"Come on. A little sun might help calm your nerves too." 

Paul wrenched his eyes from her body he'd been staring again, too intently 
and shifted weight uncomfortably. 

"Yes. I guess that ... wouldn't be a bad idea. Let me get my swim trunks." 

She laughed again and turned and started toward the patio. Below the towel 
he could just see the rounded underhalves of her glistening, wet buttocks. 
After several steps she looked back over her shoulder. Are you kidding? This 
is the twentieth century. Just bring a quilt or something." 

During the instant that followed that statement, as Lys rounded the corner 
and went out of his sight, Paul thought his whole life flashed before his 
eyes not a linear vision: circular, the present and the distant past 
interwoven, his life with Katherine, the first awful night they'd been to 
bed together and he'd lost the rubber in her, the miserable sheepish 
aftermath to that and then her learning she was pregnant and their hastily 
announced engagement and on their wedding night that second even more 
disastrous time in bed with her when he'd had to force himself on her and 
realized she was frigid; after that, the years stretched out, Tom being born 
and growing up, the other women he'd had, the other frustrating nights with 
Katherine. All now muddled together as if in a swirling dream. He went to 
the storage closet and got a quilt, a thick soft comforter that would be 
soft enough to lay on even on the hard tile floor of the patio. That was at 
least his unconscious admission that what would happen next would be as much 
his responsibility as hers. But he didn't consciously admit that. He told 
himself, even as he selected that thick quilt because he knew it would be 
soft enough to fuck on, that he had to keep his head and remember that this 
was his own eighteen year old son's girlfriend he was going to be lying 
naked beside. 

She was standing in the center of the patio when he got there, the sun 
playing on her damp body that was still barely concealed by the wet towel 
that clung to her lush curves. She gazed into the light of the sun, taking a 
deep, sexy breath and squinting her eyes. Then she turned and looked at him, 
standing and waiting and holding the quilt. Her eyes dropped below his waist 
and he moved the quilt over to conceal the erection he knew she could see 
bulging in his trousers, and again she laughed. 

"Aren't you going to spread it?" she said, mocking him with her voice. 

Reluctantly almost he flapped the quilt out and bent to spread it on the 
tile floor. Again she looked openly at the tent of his throbbing erection. 
Then with a motion reminiscent of a ballet dancer beginning a pirouette she 
flung the towel suddenly off her to reveal her naked body beneath, the 
breasts shining with beads of water that looked like sweat, the nipples 
immediately swelling from contact with air. Her belly was thin and smooth, 
the faintest outline of muscle beneath the near transparent looking flesh, 
that flawlessness of structure only attained by women who practice yoga or 
some similar exercise. Below, between her slender, tanned thighs, the blond 
pubic hair was sparse, twisted in spirals of dampness that revealed her pink 
little clitoris and the beginning of her inviting vaginal slit. 

Now she did pirouette very slowly, her arms stretched above her head to arch 
her flawless breasts as though in gesture of worship to the sun that beamed 
on her. The turn completed, she paused facing him. 

Again her eyes dropped to his crotch. "Aren't you going to get naked like 
me?" Her tongue flicked out of her mouth to wet her lips in distinct 
suggestion. 

"I ... I guess so." 

Clumsily he started to unbutton his shirt. She dropped to her knees, 
smoothing the quilt, then stretched out languidly, her body in a pose of 
open surrender, her eyes focused on him as he removed the clothing from his 
still fit, athletic body. 

At last he pulled off his trousers and shorts, causing his hard cock to bend 
downward and then spring tautly back upward, and dropped awkwardly to his 
knees and stretched out beside her. For a moment he lay in tense silence, 
listening to her soft breathing beside him. As a reflex, he stiffened his 
genital muscles and his cock bobbed. She giggled. 

"It's beautiful," she purred, leaning toward him. "Why are you so 
embarrassed about it?" 

"I'm not embarrassed." 

She lay a hand on his belly and did a little tickling dance with her 
fingers. 

"You look embarrassed. Your face is all red and you're afraid to look me in 
the eye. And except for the signals I'm getting from mat enormous pole of a 
thing, you hardly seem appreciative of my body." 

"You're Tom's girlfriend. My own son's girl. We shouldn't even be lying here 
like this, talking like this. And you know it." 

"Do you know it?" 

The question took him back. He jerked his head toward her and the vision of 
her beautiful nakedness, the long hair draped over her shoulders and spread 
loosely like a long veil over her wide round breasts and silken belly almost 
to the exquisite blonde banner of her pubis, caused a renewal of his surging 
want. 

"What ... ?" 

"Do you know that? Do you really know that: that we shouldn't be here like 
this? Or is it just an attitude handed down from generations of darkness, 
that you've never questioned and that has no basis in the way things really 
are?" 

"I don't know what you mean," he blurted, jerking his eyes defensively from 
her. 

"Do you know that since we've been together, Tom has had even more strange 
girls than I have boys?" 

"I wouldn't know." 

"And I've had a lot of them, almost everyone I've seen that was special 
enough one way or another for me to want them. And once you open your eyes, 
you see there are a lot of special people in this world. And Tom understands 
me and I understand him." 

He grunted. 'Well I don't think hell understand this." 

"I didn't say we don't get jealous. If we quit being jealous, that would be 
the end of it. Tom can get into a rage you wouldn't believe from just a 
little thing like seeing me be fucked by a stranger and enjoying it. And the 
last time I caught him in bed, with two other girls, I got so jealous and at 
the same time so excited I almost wet my pants." She paused, laughing gaily, 
and added: "But that's what makes life fun for us, and what keeps us 
together and interested in each other: the competition. The fact that we 
both always know we always have to be in our top form and do our best for 
the other one to keep them around." 

Once more she paused, as if to give the wisdom of this time to sink in. Then 
she said in a voice that was changed, gusty and wanton: "Do you want me to 
suck your cock?" 

He felt it throb. A muffled meaningless sound popped from his throat. He 
swallowed hard and without looking at her nodded. 

"Do you? Say it." 

"Yes," he croaked. 

"Say the words." 

"Yes. I want you to suck my cock. God yes! How could I not want you to do 
it!" 

"Then put it in my mouth. Or grab my hair or my head and push my mouth down 
on it. Show me you're a man and mean it!" 

The rage streaked through him like fire. For an instant, as he watched her 
almost mocking young face, her narrowed eyes and her pursed, wet lips, it 
seemed he couldn't move. She licked her lips again and once more looked down 
at his hardened penis. Then suddenly he found control of his muscles and 
lunged upward, rolling on her and pushing her onto her back, his hands 
mauling her breasts and shoulders, then pinning her arms as he straddled her 
chest and dragged his hard pulsating maleness up her body, between the hard, 
vibrant breasts and thrust it without mercy as deep as it would go into her 
already willing open young mouth. 

Beneath him on the quilt he felt her body recoil, her head retreating down 
into the softness of the comforter. He heard a deep gurgling sound issue 
from her throat and felt her lips oval themselves tightly about his hard 
maleness, her tongue flicking in a wet teasing circular motion about the 
heavily throbbing shaft. For what must have been a full minute he ground his 
cock down into her mouth ruthlessly, fucking between her lipstick rimmed 
young lips with no more tenderness than were it a cunt in which he was on 
the verge of climaxing. His ass cheeks smashed her voluptuous breasts hard 
into her chest and below, with his foot pressed between her thighs he could 
feel a brushing of the soft hair of her cunt between her legs as her body 
began to writhe excitedly beneath him. 

Then gradually he slacked off with the vicious thrusting and began to snake 
his cock gently in and out of her mouth; then even that ceased as the 
delicate sucking and the caress of her lips and tongue on his maleness 
caused his anger to abate. At last he withdrew it and slid down her body, 
settling between her already widely parted, waiting thighs. 

He kissed her on the lips that only moments ago he'd assaulted with his 
cock, and beneath him she twisted her velvety body, crushing it up against 
him. She put her arms around him and ran her hands eagerly over him. She 
squirmed as his cock brushed the most tender flesh of her inner thighs, 
tickled the softly curling pubic hairs and began to nudge at the slowly 
moistening little slit of her cunt. Then she arched her hips, lifting both 
of them off the quilt with a surprising strength for her supple build, and 
Paul rested his weight on one elbow and slid his other hand beneath their 
bodies, down the hot flesh of her belly and through the resilient soft pussy 
hair, onto the top of the thinly pulsating crevice of her cunt. She dropped 
her body back onto the quilt and nibbled tenderly at his neck with her 
teeth. 

His cock still prodding at her thighs, he thrust his finger deeper into the 
slick wet walls of her surprisingly tight cunt. She whimpered, again 
squirming beneath him, as deeper and deeper the finger wiggled, and 
tightened her thighs about his waist. 

She kissed him on the lips and began to claw at his back, her hips now 
twitching furiously against the probing of his finger. Then she jerked her 
body and sobbed wantonly: "Come on, Paul! Fuck me now! Don't wait any 
longer." 

As she jerked about wildly he withdrew his finger and repositioned himself 
between her warm, desperately grasping thighs. For a moment his cock prodded 
off course, nudging her first above the wet and ready slit, then below on 
the tiny muscle between her cunt and her asshole. Then she reached down 
frantically with her own hand, between his buttocks and thighs, and seized 
his cock and guided it surely to her. A moan of ecstasy or pain issued from 
her just as the large, rubbery head spread wide the thin elastic lips of her 
naked young pussy and entered. Then, as it wormed deeper up inside her tiny, 
excitedly contracting belly, she screamed as though in exquisite torture, 
her body shuddering and writhing, her breath coming in tormented, strained 
gasps. 

At last he felt the initial resistance of her cunt give way, felt her 
vaginal lubricants come rushing down around his shaft, slickening it and 
making it slide easily to her hot, grasping depths. Her scream died away to 
a soft purring sound. Her writhing faded to subtle twitching. Then for a 
moment they were both motionless except for the soft caress of her hands on 
his thighs moving slowly toward his buttocks. Then she began to squirm 
again, grinding her pelvis up against him so their loins were a tight fit, 
her hands beginning to forcefully knead the firm flesh of his powerfully 
driving asscheeks. 

To his increasingly desperate downward thrusts she worked her body wildly, 
moaning and sobbing as if to punctuate her movements. He lifted his head so 
he could look down on her face, which was now contorted wildly with 
pleasure, the long hair spread out and tousled on the quilt, her mouth open 
and her eyes closed in tightly clenched slits. Gone was that mocking air 
that had challenged and so perturbed him before. She was caught up now in 
the wild sexually erotic pleasure he was evoking in her deeply impaled young 
body. She had totally surrendered to him. He was on topboth ways. 

He slid his hand beneath her buttocks, pushing it into the softly dividing 
crevice between and flicking his finger across the bottom of her vagina 
where his enormous cock now rhythmically fucked in and out of her. He caught 
a few droplets of her excitedly flowing moisture with his finger and spread 
them backward over the tight, tiny asshole, poised the tip of his middle 
finger at its entrance, then wormed it up into the first knuckle into the 
vainly resisting tightness. She shuddered, the sound of her moaning changing 
to indicate pain. But she did not resist or protest as he inched it slowly, 
relentlessly inward, feeling the tiny puckered little hole seem to open or 
stretch reluctantly, the resistance giving way gradually. Then he thrust it 
in swiftly, the last inch up to his knuckle, and in retreat she ground her 
hips up violently against him, screaming in pain and pleading with him. 

Then a deep sigh escaped her and she sank her buttocks back on the finger, 
her experienced young vaginal muscles tightening hungrily around the shaft 
of his cock and holding it for a moment deep within her, then beginning to 
wiggle up and down crazily as he withdrew and thrust it violently. He began 
a long series of lunges, racking her small body with buttock shattering 
strokes, timing the rapid in and out movement of his finger in her asshole 
with the heavily driving rhythm of his cock in her cunt. Her moaning became 
a scream; her movements suddenly like a wave of fluttering under him. She 
clawed at his buttocks with her hands, a frantic response to the waves of 
orgasm that surged through her nakedly jerking young body beneath him. 

He let her orgasm pass until she was just twitching, pleading flesh beneath 
him, and continued, concentrating on his own build up even as she sobbed for 
rest. Then his movements prompted her to new desire and she began to respond 
again, even more fervently and deliciously than before, as though maddened 
by her ecstasy and driven to a delirium that gave her greater and greater 
strength. Her cunt spasmed; it was as though its lips were like the lips of 
a small bearded mouth, alternately nibbling and biting. Deep inside he felt 
the caress of her inner pussy muscles like the dexterous licking of a 
tongue. He'd never in his life fucked anybody like this, and again he felt 
he should offer his congratulations to his son. But if he'd felt guilty 
before, that was now gone. Nobody, should have the right to exclude the rest 
of the world from a wild little piece of tail like this. 

"Yes! Oh God, fuck me!" she screamed suddenly. "Fuck me harder. Fuck me 
harder." 

Thoughts left his mind, he drifted in his own world of bliss and delirium, 
feeling his cock grow even larger, driving up to the inner reaches of her 
pelvis now, feeling the first waves of what would be momentarily his own 
extended rush toward climax. Beneath him Lys continued to moan and scream, 
unintelligible sounds and obscenities and words of pleading for him to reach 
an even greater pinnacle of thrusting passion. 

She rolled backward on her shoulders, kicking her legs up in the air and 
thrusting her loins openly up at his driving pelvis, making a slick straight 
sheet of her cunt that he could fuck into more smoothly. He further 
increased the ferocity of his strokes, his loins making a flat fleshy 
slapping sound on her buttocks as if he were spanking her. 

Then suddenly a shudder coursed through her body. 

"Ooooh God, Paul! I'm going to cum again!" she wailed, her nails tearing at 
his back. 

A low cry formed in her throat and spiralled upward, a piercing scream, out 
of her mouth. Her thighs clamped tight about his back and her ankles drummed 
frantically on his hips. He worked his finger forcibly; through the thin 
fleshy membrane that separated anus from vagina and was able to tighten the 
caresses of her cunt walls on his cock. He lowered his head and kissed the 
nipple of one of her breasts, then bit down so hard on it to cause a break 
in her cry as she moaned aloud and sucked in her breath. 

Then he ceased his own control, letting his strokes become swift and wild, 
without coordination, sheer fury as he felt the cum well up in him, spiral 
upward and go spewing hotly into her greedily welcoming young vagina. 

Gradually his movements slackened, and at last he was lying motionless upon 
her. He kissed her gently on the lips as he slipped his finger softly out of 
her still tightly clenched rectum and caressed her buttocks, slick and wet 
with the warm white liquid of both their orgasms. He grinned triumphantly 
above her and flexed his penis deep up inside, causing her body to writhe 
gently beneath him. 

A moment later he withdrew his rapidly deflating cock from her sperm flooded 
young vagina and rolled over onto his back. He lay panting beside her. 
Though his own eyes were closed, he could feel hers were on him. And he knew 
they now lacked that challenging smile they had had before he fucked her. 
She was grateful, as women invariably are after several orgasms. 

He felt her hand touch his belly, move down to caress his flaccid cock. It 
tingled, at first almost unpleasantly, too sensitive on the still pulsating 
tip. Then he felt it respond and begin to harden again. Lys kissed him on 
the chest and slid atop him, straddling his loins and positioning his penis 
upright, lowering her desire slickened young pussy easily down onto it. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Katherine had decided there was no use in waiting while two flats were 
repaired and then either driving with breakneck speed or arriving late for 
her meeting in Albuquerque. She caught a ride with a brash looking truck 
driver back to the service station in town, gave the attendant instructions 
about the car and made a long distance call to cancel the engagement. Then 
she walked the half mile back to the house. 

Even before she entered the front door, she thought she felt a strange 
apprehension. Perhaps it was the silence, perhaps intuition. Or maybe just 
lingering suspicion about the way Lys had seemed to be flirting with her 
husband, Paul at breakfast. But as she went through the door she was almost 
on tip-toes, and she was listening intently for some sound that would let 
her know everything was in order. 

That sound was not forthcoming. 

She walked through the den and into the kitchen, noting with some surprise 
that the dishes had been washed. She stood still for a moment, wavering on 
her feet, and called Paul's name out, but so softly he could not have heard 
had he been anywhere but one of the immediately adjoining rooms. Then she 
started out, intending to take the short cut across the patio to see if they 
were in the den. But at the doorway she stopped, her mouth gaping. 

The old comforter they used only for the coldest months of winter was spread 
on the tile in the sun in the middle of the patio. Stretched our there on 
his back, naked, was her husband. Straddling him was their son's girlfriend 
Lys, also naked. Katherine watched dazed as the blonde took his hardened 
penis in her hand, directed it up between her widespread thighs, then 
lowered her body. Her face contorted at the contact. Katherine heard a low 
soft sigh and saw her squirm her widely stretched young vagina slowly down 
on the hard, long shaft until she was impaled completely, sitting, on him, 
her body still upright and her firmly upstanding breasts catching the bright 
sun, her buttocks pressed tight down against the hard cushion of his thighs 
and testicles. For a moment she waited motionless there; then she began to 
sway and writhe her torso, squirming her hips hungrily down on the rod that 
skewered pole-like up into her small body. 

"Oh God," Katherine watched wide-eyed. It looked large enough to reach all 
the way up into her stomach in this position. 

Katherine watched Paul's hands move up to caress her pelvis, to guide the 
rhythmic up and down bouncing of her body. The girl threw her head back, 
looking up at the sun as though she were a pagan worshipping it, closing her 
eyes as though unable to look upon the face of her god. Her hair dangled to 
sweep in a brushing motion over Paul's knees as she turned her head slowly 
from side to side. With her own hands she reached up to squeeze her breasts, 
fondling her nipples and pushing them together and upward like a girl in a 
lewd pin-up display. As Paul's upward lunging increased, her own writhing 
became more pagan, snake-like. 

My god, she is beautiful! 

Katherine thought. Never had she seen such perfect skin, such flawlessly 
contoured breasts, such long and beautiful hair, and such an ass. 
Enraptured, she watched them, swaying on her own feet almost in time with 
their movements. She could hardly believe the obscene splendor of the act, 
not done sneakily in the darkness but with wanton abandon in the open in the 
brilliant sunlight. And the look on Paul's face was like nothing she had 
ever seen, a look of power and triumph and ecstasy. 

She felt the strangest impulse. She wanted to go to them. There was a 
feeling inside her she'd never experienced before. It was as if she were 
enchanted, as if she had no control over herself, as if an unknown outer 
force were determined to make her a part of the blissful, lust-inciting 
scene unfolding before her. She thought she may have even took a step or two 
toward them, before she remembered her own lewd fingering of herself last 
night and suddenly with an equal lack of control over her actions turned and 
fled silently from the house. 

Katherine didn't even know how long she'd been sitting in the little side 
street bar, a place frequented by truckers and hicks, where she and Paul or 
any of their circle of acquaintances would never be seen. A twangy hillbilly 
tune was playing on a scratchy record on the jukebox and sitting down from 
her was an old drunken woman and a young cowboy with pimples. The bartender 
was snoozing on his stool and the clock told her it was after dinner. She 
hardly even remembered coming here just vague glimpses of herself running 
from the house and down the road until she was too exhausted to run, then 
walking without even thinking of her direction. She had always abhorred this 
place and the several other honky tonks of similar decor on this street and 
the next one over. 

Gradually, the scene in the patio of her husband and their son's girlfriend 
locked in a lewd, nakedly writhing embrace flooded her mind. Now removed 
from it, she could hardly believe the lust and passion that had gripped her, 
as if invisible currents had been running from their bodies to hers, pulling 
her out of herself and into an exotic world beyond anything that had ever 
been a part of her reality. Then she'd remembered what she'd seen the night 
before and went running away, scarcely conscious of what she had done. Now 
she couldn't understand the forces that had gripped her, had made her do 
that horrible thing to herself with her fingers while standing in the 
hallway and watching her own son make love to a young teenage girl. 

Katherine drank the last of her gin and tonic, made a hissing sound to wake 
the bartender, and ordered another one. The little bitch! she thought. The 
shameless, vicious little bitch! Though it wasn't so much that she cared 
about Paul. Perhaps he deserved a little fun after the way Katherine had 
treated him all these years. But corrupting her son and taking him from her, 
teaching him to do the lewd and disgusting thing Katherine had seen him 
doing the night before, that was something else. And after all, Lys was a 
guest, however unwelcome, in her house. And Paul was her husband. 

A sudden thought shot through her alcohol fogging mind: If she's had my man, 
why shouldn't I have hers? 

She giggled, which startled the bartender again. Sheepishly she looked down 
at the bar and sipped her drink while he drifted back into his half slumber. 
That wasn't what she'd really meant to think, she decided. That was the most 
ludicrous of fantasies, but a fantasy that after what she'd been through the 
last two days she was certainly entitled to. But she would have been 
genuinely happy to see another woman, almost any woman, get Tom now. She'd 
like to see that little bitch of a blonde put in her place. 

She finished her drink and ordered another, and after that a third. A third 
since she'd started counting, that was. She wasn't sure how many she'd had 
before she started the conscious tally, but she didn't think it was too 
many. She felt far from drunk and she didn't imbibe alcohol that regularly. 

She was on her fourth, since the count, when the vaguely familiar looking 
man came in and sat down two stools away from her. He nodded at her and 
though she couldn't place him, she smiled back pleasantly. She didn't want 
to talk to him, or anybody else for that matter, but she thought being 
unpleasant in this sort of place could probably be even more trouble in the 
long run than being amiable. And she certainly didn't want to leave now. She 
had nowhere else to go. 

"Can I buy you a drink?" the man asked after a moment. 

Katherine smiled and shook her head and gestured toward her glass. Then she 
saw it was empty. 

"Give the lady another one," the man told the bartender. 

She didn't feel she could refuse, so she offered him a muffled thanks and 
turned her attention to her new drink. The man got up and put a half a 
dollar in the jukebox and played the same song that seemed to have been 
playing most of the time since she'd got there. When he came back he sat a 
stool closer to her and moved his drink over. He had a faint odor about him, 
not dirty, just the sweat of hard work, and breathed hoarsely as a chain 
smoker. 

"You don't act like you remember me, baby?" he said. 

"Should I?" She didn't look at him as she said that. 

"You had a flat tire, couple of 'em, this afternoon." 

Embarrassed, she turned suddenly toward him. She wondered how she'd managed 
not to associate him to that. Though when he'd stopped and given her the 
lift she'd already been in such a state she was scarcely noticing the world 
around her. 

"I'm sorry. I really am extremely sorry. And it was so nice of you. I just 
had something on my mind and I wasn't paying attention." 

He shrugged. "It's all right. Happens all the time with beautiful women." 

She pondered the implication of this and decided she didn't want to think 
about it. But she did look at him now, perhaps for the first time really 
closely. He seemed rather dull as far as hismental or spiritual aspects were 
concerned. Other than that he just looked big and drunk and very hairy. 
Certainly not handsome, but if homely in a crude sort of way that wasn't 
completely displeasing. He reminded her of the stereotype of so many of the 
people in that small Arizona town where she'd grown up, the lungers and 
gropers and pawer-uppers she'd gone out with before she'd gotten involved 
with Paul. And she had no doubt from the way he was looking back at her that 
his approach would be about as uncouth as theirs. 

Katherine turned back to the bar and finished her drink. 

"My name's Bill," the man said in her ear, then shouted to the bartender: 
"Give her another one." 

"No," said Katherine. "I think I really must be going." 

"Don't be silly." 

He slapped the bar and before she could get herself up off the stool, or 
think about getting her money out to pay for the drinks she'd had before 
Bill came, there was another before her. 

"Thanks," she said reluctantly and took a healthy gulp of the gin that now, 
because she had had so many, had become almost tasteless. She could feel 
Bill's eyes on her, hungrily devouring her slender body, stripping off her 
skirt and sweater in his dreams. She knew what he had on his mind. There 
wasn't the slightest doubt about that. He thought she was just another 
barroom pick-up and he probably took for granted that he'd have her in the 
sack before the afternoon waned. It disgusted her. 

But it seemed now that the whole world was disgusting. All around her 
lascivity seemed to have become the way of life. 

"How 'bout a dance?" 

"No thanks." 

"Aw, come on," he said. "It won't hurt." 

He put his hand on her shoulder and she stiffened and tried to shy away. But 
his fingers dug into her flesh and held her, not brutally or painfully, just 
tightly enough to make it difficult for her to refuse. Reluctantly she took 
a last bracing sip of her drink and rose and let him lead her to the center 
of the small dance floor. He gave a slight, absurd bow and took her in his 
arms and began to guide her about the floor to the shuffling rhythm of the 
song. He pulled her close to him. At first she tried to hold her body back 
but resistance seemed more trouble than yielding, and after all it was 
innocent enough, just dancing, even if the contact of their bodies was 
somewhat suggestive of something not so innocent. After a moment she 
completely surrendered, letting him squeeze her light body tightly to his 
barrel-shaped belly and muscular chest, mashing her tender breasts, his 
thighs brushing forcefully against hers. Through his trousers she sensed the 
stirring of his maleness; like a snake uncoiling to rigidity it inched its 
way upward along her stomach, swelling until it was an enormous hard force. 
She made but the faintest effort to draw away, but he still held her firmly 
to him. 

"I'm what you might call a long distance man," Bill said into her ear. "Like 
working for the telephone company. Last week it was New Orleans. Next week 
Seattle. After that who knows?" 

They danced for a moment longer in silence. She thought he must epitomize 
everything she hated in men. His brash, overbearing manner. The fact that he 
was talking to her and dancing with her for only one, obvious reason: 
because he wanted to get between her legs, he wanted to take and violate her 
body and beyond that cared nothing for her at all. But it didn't seem to 
matter now. Nothing mattered. She didn't even object as she felt his hand 
inch down her back, brushing first lightly over the swell of her soft, 
inviting buttock, then more firmly, kneading both of them almost greedily 
with a total disregard for what the other people in the bar might think of 
her. 

"I've got a little room up the street," he whispered in her ear, patting her 
on the buttock with his hand, then again letting it come to rest, even lower 
where the cleft began down into her thighs. "Nothing special. But it's cozy 
and I can get a bottle of gin." 

"No." 

"You need a little break," he continued. "I could see that even this 
afternoon." 

The song stopped, but he still held her to him and waited for the next, then 
they began again. He brought his hand up from her hips, running it lightly 
along her spine, causing funny little chills to flow through her body. Then 
he dragged it beneath her arm and mashed the side of her breast. Again she 
remembered the lewd but exciting sexual things she'd seen last night, then 
this morning. The alcohol had dulled her anger somewhat; or perhaps Her mind 
had just been forced to cope with it and disperse it, dilute the disgusting 
images to enable her to face them. And now she was able to wonder 
pragmatically what she was going to do. She could hardly go home, not after 
what she'd seen there and what she'd done too. She hardly deluded herself 
about her own innocence. Perhaps standing in the darkness eavesdropping and 
fingering herself was even worse than what Tom and Paul and Lys had done. 
But she certainly couldn't go on drinking here. 

Without warning Bill suddenly kissed her on the lips. She let him do it; her 
lips met his without resistance even as his tongue snaked sloppily into her 
mouth. And as he moved his hand between their bodies, pressing his palm hard 
on her breasts, she felt a lewd stirring sensation as her nipple swelled. 
Then that song ended and he led her back to the bar. She felt suddenly just 
very tired, worn out both physically and spiritually. Bill ordered them two 
more drinks and again she didn't refuse merely because it seemed easier to 
accept. 

"I'll tell you what." Bill said. "You look like you're pretty well done in 
anyway. Why don't you let me take you back to the room, and well have just a 
couple of belts. Then you can take a nap." 

Katherine cast him a sardonic glance. He crossed himself, staring at her 
with his watery, red eyes, his face hidden behind an attempted mask of 
sincerity. His eyes dropped momentarily to her breasts. Then he looked up 
again at her face. 

"You must really think I'm stupid if you think I believe that for a minute!" 

The sharpness of her voice caused him to draw back. Then she laughed softly. 
What difference did it make now? she wondered. All she wanted to do was lie 
down for a while. Get out of this horrible bar. Avoid having to go back to 
her horrible home. And after what she and the rest of her family had done, 
what difference did one truck driver make? 

"All right," she said softly. "If you promise you won't molest me." 

"Cross my heart!" 

He crossed himself again. 

It was a shabby motel with dingy, smelly rooms. Often as she'd passed in the 
car Katherine had wondered who would stay in it. Now she knew. The truck 
driver had got a half pint of gin before they left the bar and paid for not 
only the drinks he'd invited her but the ones she'd ordered before he'd 
come, which she'd let him do with certain misgivings. Now she knew why. The 
cramped and dingy look of the room with its rickety bed and stained sink and 
off colored curtains only served to impress on her the sordidness of her own 
presence here. She'd been picked up in a dive and brought to a cheap motel 
by a man who's last name she didn't even know. Even as it repulsed her, the 
realization of those facts gave her a lewd excitement. It seemed the most 
degrading, disgusting thing she could ever do, even more so than her 
frenzied finger fucking of herself last night in the foyer that lead to 
Tom's room, or her delirious, almost spiritual anticipation those few 
moments she watched the same woman being fucked by her own husband this 
afternoon. It seemed somehow a deserving climax to those other two events. 

But even so she knew she couldn't go through with it even if she had wanted 
to. 

Bill poured her a drink in the glass on the sink and took a shot from the 
bottle for himself. "Like I said, it's not much." He gestured around the 
room. "Just one of many homes a traveling guy like me has to have." He 
shrugged. "What I'm trying to say is this: you don't have to worry with a 
guy like me about none of the things that might be worrying you, like gossip 
and all." 

Katherine looked him over more carefully even than she had in the bar. He 
looked like a genuine stupid brute. Her husband and son should see this, she 
thought. Then she shuddered and turned abruptly away. She took a long sip of 
the drink and stared through a tear in the curtain at the dirty stucco wall 
on the opposite side of the narrow street. It was -lined up with old bent up 
beer cans and a piece of yellow newspaper, caught on a rock, flapped in the 
light breeze. What a different world this was from her own home, what it had 
been until yesterday. And it was less than two miles away. 

She started suddenly as she felt the man step up behind her, resting his 
hand on her shoulder, his barrel belly pushing at her spine. She took a step 
forward, as far as she could go without jumping through the window, but he 
followed. His hand moved down her shoulder onto the unprotected upper 
portion of her breast above the bra cup. She felt his warm breath on her 
neck, which caused her to shiver, and the hard obscene prodding of his penis 
in the crevice of her soft buttocks. 

"No, Bill," she pleaded softly. "I can't. I just can't." 

He ignored her, putting both his arms around her and cupping her breasts 
strongly, massaging them brutally through the bra, causing her to recoil 
backward and drive her buttocks onto the giant protrusion in his trousers 
until she could feel it touch up against the very hole of her anus. It was a 
strange, not unpleasant tickle that caused her whole body to stiffen. At the 
same time she felt his tongue flick over her ear, causing a pleasing chill 
to shoot down her spine. She only faintly resisted the hand that moved down 
her belly along the outside of her skirt, making it scratch at the soft down 
of her pubis. Then as his finger touched her clitoris on the outside of her 
clothes and panties a shudder of delight caused her to press her buttocks 
backward even harder against the large organ that through her skirt and 
panties prodded threateningly against her anus. 

A soft moan escaped her and she began to grind her hips back sensuously as 
his hand, still on the outside of her skirt, teased her swelling clitoris. 
His other hand tugged at her sweater, at last managed to get it out of her 
skirt, then moved up beneath it and pushed at her bra cups until they popped 
off her breasts, still tight on her and cutting painfully into the soft, 
luxurious upper curves of them so that she cried out. Then the touch of his 
fingers on her nipples compensated for that, and her cry was transformed to 
a whimper ofjoy. 

She hung her head back, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at the 
soiled ceiling with its great cloud-like stains that looked like stains of 
semen and vaginal fluids on an old mattress. She forgot herself for a 
moment, who she was and what it was that she was doing. She let herself bask 
in the real joy of the perfect stranger's hand mauling her fabulous breasts 
and the hard knob of his cock pressing hotly at her anus, the warm and vivid 
friction of his finger teasing at the excitedly jumping little bud of her 
clitoris through her skirt. 

She felt as she were about to jump out of her lifelong innocence and purity 
into a new and unexplored realm. She was about to escape from a tightly 
walled place, or burst through a membrane it was something she'd never 
conceived before, neither the invisible, indefinable prison that held her, 
or this still unknown world of hedonistic freedom she felt lay just beyond. 
And she was almost there, she thought, squirming even more wildly as he 
shoved his hand down inside her skirt and beneath the elastic waistband of 
her panties, through the softness of her pubic hair to touch the pleading 
little tip of her clitoris nakedly without the interference of her skirt, 
sending waves of even more maddening and demanding pleasure soaring hotly 
through her body. 

She was almost there. Then something snapped. Her whole body went stiff. A 
wave of nausea shattered the twinges of joy that had held her enraptured. 

In a swift, determined movement she slithered out of his grasp and before he 
could seize her again she was halfway across the room from him, turned to 
face him, her eyes wild and wide and filled with tears, her usually neat 
hair asunder and standing out savagely, her sweater untucked from her skirt 
and pulled up from her waist, on one side caught on her gorgeous, exposed 
breast and only half concealing the other. She looked down at herself with 
disbelief, then up at the sweating, hairy brute of a truck driver, staring 
at her with a look of total amazement and stupidity. She could hear her own 
hoarse, hastened breathing, and inside her panties where just an instant ago 
his calloused working man's hand had tortured her swollen clitoris to 
pleading ecstasy she felt the tell-tale moisture of her cuntal excitement. 

"What in the hell's wrong with you babe?" 

"Stay away from me," she screeched like a tigress. 

She tried to pull her sweater down over her nudely exposed breast but it was 
caught beneath the cup of the bra, which still tore mercilessly into the 
tender, pliable flesh. 

"Christ, you were just about to cum from my finger," he said, still sounding 
half dazed. 

"And shut your filthy mouth!" 

He responded to that with an initial incredulous silence, then burst 
suddenly into an uproarious laughter. 

"But you didn't know, did you? You didn't know because you don't know what 
that is?" 

Still gaping-mouthed with amazement the lewdly grinning truck driver came 
lunging toward her. 

"Stay away, you brute!" she hissed, retreating in the corner. 

"You didn't even know you was going to pop your nuts," he said again just as 
he reached her. 

She whimpered softly as he came bearing down upon her, breathing hard, 
moving it seemed with the irrefutable motion of a train, a giant unleashed 
storm that would devour or rend asunder all that stood in its path. She 
threw her hands up feebly in defense, but she didn't resist as he pushed 
them out of the way. Then as that horrible vision of her son and his young 
girlfriend, Lys, flashed again in her mind, she felt her legs go weak. She 
collapsed sobbing on his chest. 

He half-led, half-dragged her to the bed, but she didn't try to hold back. 
She didn't care any more. It didn't matter that she didn't know him, or that 
she didn't even like him. Nothing mattered nothing but the gnawing desire up 
in her moistly flowing vagina, the need that was like nothing she'd ever 
experienced before, that engulfed and overwhelmed and made her helpless 
before its relentless command. 

She had to have a penis, any man's penis, even this man's. She had to have 
it inside her, to stretch her cunt wide, fill it until she felt it would 
burst it, tear it through into the depths of her being. Even if it repulsed 
her or hurt her physically, she had to have it. It seemed it would be a 
cleansing, not only of her maddening physical desire, but of the deeply 
tormenting guilt that possessed her. It was her only possible atonement for 
the things she had seen last night and this morning. 

"I don't know who the hell's been seeing to your love life," Bill grunted, 
tearing the blouse and brassiere off her head to expose and free her large 
firm breasts. "But I'm going to give you a fucking like you never dreamed 
of." 

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes do it!" She couldn't believe the words were hers. 
"Fuck me like that! Do it to me real dirty!" 

Anticipating him she unsnapped her skirt and wriggled out of it, then pushed 
the flimsy nylon panties off her voluptuously curved hips, revealing 
completely her lithe, well-tanned body. He watched with appreciation that 
was madly lascivious as he pulled off his own shirt, to expose that enormous 
chest as hairy as an ape's, and then began to get out of his trousers. 

Her eyes half closed, drifting a dream of unfulfilled ecstasy, Katherine 
watched his giant, throbbing cock approach her. It looked frighteningly 
large, as if it would tear her apart, as if she could never bear to have it 
thrust into the tightness of her tender, sensitive cunt. But that was what 
she wanted. She wanted to be hurt by it, torn and tortured until this 
maddening longing was expiated and somehow she could become herself again 
and escape the grips of this obscene delirium. 

"Yes, fuck me!" she said again, a throaty whisper that she could hardly 
imagine was coming from her. "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me." She'd never said 
that word before; now, as she lay down on her back and watched him crowd on 
top of her, the giant cock lowered toward her crazed and pleading body, it 
was like a chant swirling up in her throat. 

She felt his hands press her legs wide apart, his fingers moving down the 
tender flesh of her inner thighs, the weight of him lowering hard upon her 
body. She heard the bed springs creak and felt it sag beneath her hips. Then 
his hands touched the lips of her excitedly throbbing vagina, pulling them 
open wide and stretching them, his thumbs prodding her clitoris, his last 
fingers sliding between and spreading her buttocks. 

Then a shudder went through her body as she felt the first sharp stab of the 
truck driver's cock, thrusting against the tightness of her nakedly 
trembling cunt, until just the head of it nestled between the burning lips. 

"Oh god!" she screamed, feeling the incredible pain, yet even as it hurt her 
wanting it more. 

He shoved forward, dropping his belly so it was a great weight on her frail 
body. She extended her arms above her head, arching her surrendered breasts. 
Her fingers did a mad little ballet as she felt the heavy burning hardness 
inch slowly inward. Her body twitched and writhed, beyond her control as her 
last resistance gave way and the giant rubbery head of it and the long 
following shaft came plunging on, upward to the deepest depths of her 
painfully absorbing belly. Her face contorted with passion and a crazed cry 
of ecstasy burst from her lips. 

The truck driver made a low, animal-like grunting sound, as if he were 
greatly satisfied with his accomplishment. Then he began to fuck her, 
drawing the thick shaft out and plunging it down, gently at first, then 
harder until his body jolted hers and caused her to punctuate her cries with 
eerie grunts of pain. 

She lifted her legs outward into the air and then back in again, clasping 
them about his broad hips, the velvet folds of her vagina grasping him and 
squeezing tightly around the rigid pole until she could feel every inch of 
its punishing length, until in spite of the moisture that flooded and 
lubricated her cunt she was aware of the vivid sensation of friction with 
his every move. Her head flayed from side to side, her body white hot with 
the passion he'd unleashed. She locked her ankles high above his back, 
spiraling her ravenously hungry vagina up the full length of the heavily 
plunging shaft of his cock. 

She forgot everything but the brutal assault on her pleading body. She no 
longer cared that what she was doing was wrong, that the fact that her 
husband, Paul, had had an affair gave her no right to act like a common 
whore. She forgot the respectable upbringing that had made her what she was, 
or what she had been until today, and screamed and pleaded for more, for him 
to fuck her harder, for him to break down those ill-defined walls that had 
prisoned, to take her into the light she'd glimpsed just beyond them. 

"Oh god, fuck me like a whore!" She screamed. "Don't stop. Fuck me and make 
me cum!" 

He clamped his lips down on one of her voluptuous breasts, his tongue 
flicking like a tiny whip over her yearning nipple. He hastened the rhythm 
of his movements, made his strokes harder until his body was a heavy lunging 
weight that crushed her. His hands tore madly at her flesh, clawing her so 
that she cried out. She felt his saliva dripping from his mouth where he 
kissed her breast, trickling slowly down to the ticklish flesh of her 
armpit. She thought she was almost there now, that she could have almost 
reached and touched that unknown bliss that awaited her. It was like a great 
surging wave bubbling up in a part of her body she was cut off from. She 
just had to break into it. Break into it. And she was so close. 

Suddenly she heard a sharp angry curse. She felt Bill's movement stop. He 
tried to lay motionless on her, but she thrashed about madly beneath him. 
Then he started to withdraw, pulling his burgeoning cock up and out until it 
almost left her completely. She clawed at his buttocks, trying to pull him 
back down into her. The frustration was more than she could bear. 

Then, before she knew what was happening, he rammed it back in viciously 
into her now openly welcoming pussy and began a staccato series of strokes, 
groaning, the groan swelling to an animal roar as he spewed his burning 
sperm deep into her slick, wet passage. 

"Nooo!" she screamed, pounding his back viciously with his hands as she felt 
his movements begin to slacken, felt her own passion dropping from the peak 
it had almost reached. "No, oh god. Don't stop now!" 

She still screamed and fought him even after he lay still and panting on 
her, a great dead weight. And even after his cock had gone flaccid and her 
belly felt as though it would burst from the volume of his cum, tried to 
continue her frenzied, frustrated hunching back, still cursed him with words 
she hadn't even realized she'd known. 

Then he caught his breath and put his hand over her mouth to calm her, 
caught the wrist of the hand that flayed at him and pinned it above her 
head. 

"Calm down, baby. It's not over yet." 

"It's not?" she whimpered, seizing a desperate hope as she felt the cruel 
pain of unfulfillment surge through her. 

"You can get it back up again it you want to," he said, looking at her 
slyly. 

Then he turned loose of her wrist and in a sudden gesture withdrew his limp 
cock from her vagina, causing her body to contort in terrible agony. He 
rolled on his back, grinning lewdly as he watched the tears fill her eyes 
and spill down her face, the sobs make her slender shoulders shake. 

"How?" she wailed. 

He nodded down at his waist, where his cock lay limber and glistening with 
his cum and with lubricant of her cunt, which coated the awesome matted 
black hair around it. 

"Suck it back up." 

She caught her breath, shaking her head wildly from side to side. He put his 
hand on her neck and urged her to a sitting position, which she assumed 
reluctantly, staring with awe and terror at the cock which now looked like a 
pink, slippery worm. 

"If you want it to fuck you some more?" he urged. "That's what you'd better 
do." 

She couldn't. It was too much to ask. Anything, but she would never do that, 
never take a man's cock into her mouth. Especially if it had just been in 
her own pussy, fucking her to a state of delirium and then shooting its 
filthy cum in to mingle with her own juices. She thought of Lys sucking Tom, 
of the revulsion that had filled her when she'd seen that. And then she felt 
the stabbing frustration again, the longing in her own vagina for the 
fulfillment she'd been so close to. She couldn't stand it. If she didn't 
have that cock big and hard in her again, if she didn't find a release from 
the terrible agony of her longing, she thought she'd go out of her mind. 
Then she felt the pressure of Bill's hand on her back, shoving her face 
downward firmly. At first she resisted, then that gave way and she plunged 
down eagerly, her lips rounding instinctively and her tongue flicking out of 
her mouth for a furtive taste before she made a hungry little gurgling sound 
and drew it up between her lips and teeth, her nose snuggling tightly down 
into the stiff hair on his large balls. 

Almost magically it began to twitch back to life, elongated, crawling 
tediously up her tongue toward the back of her throat. Shame filled tears 
spilled from her eyes and dripped off her cheeks into his pubis hair as she 
felt him arch his hips upward, thrusting his ever growing penis deeper into 
her widely ovaled mouth so that her cheeks were puffed out. She could taste 
the pungent sweetness of her own juices, coppery like a penny, and the 
distinct maleness of his cum. She could smell the vivid male odor of his 
sex. She thought this was the ultimate degradation. She felt lower than any 
whore, more immoral than any of the women whose names down through the ages 
had graced the pages of infamy. She was worse, even than Lys. Because 
Katherine knew what she was doing was wrong, was repulsed by it even as she 
did so. But she couldn't help herself. She had to have the truck driver's 
cock fucking up into her again at all cost. 

The man moaned beneath her as her breasts dangled and pressed on his hairy 
belly. He moved his hands down her back and urged her to a kneeling position 
up beside him so that as she sucked his cock she presented him with a clear 
view of her nakedly up thrust asscheeks and the thinly spread lips of her 
vagina that seemed to spasm with desire in time with the fervent 
manipulations of her tongue and lips. Her love juices flowed out freely to 
trickle down and soak the softly curling pubic hairs that -lined the lips of 
the gently pulsating slit, cascading down the satin flesh of her smooth 
inner thighs. 

He pushed his finger between her ripe, openly spread buttocks, flicking it 
over the moist hole of her anus, then down into the thin, bearded little 
mouth of her pussy. At the same time he worked his thumb mercilessly into 
the tiny puckered circle of her rectum, stretching wide the tight little 
elastic ring, causing her to jerk forward, taking even more of his cock in 
her mouth. He timed the upward thrusts of his hips with the dual probings of 
his thumb and finger into her cunt and asshole, and she sputtered and gagged 
as the now monstrous shaft brushed all the way to the hilt up between her 
lips and drove relentlessly back to her tonsils. 

And then suddenly, Katherine felt the rising tide of building orgasm begin 
anew deep in her hotly quivering belly. The very obscenity of the act she 
was doing, the debasement and degradation which she'd accepted from this 
perfect stranger almost with gratitude, combined with the eerie pain of his 
thumb sunk deep up in her rectum and the pleasant teasing of his finger in 
her vagina to make strange ripples of fire dance wildly through her 
shattered nerves. She licked and sucked madly at the fleshy rod that was 
imbedded so deep in her mouth, her own saliva flowing as freely as her 
vaginal lubricants, mingling with the lingering love juices and semen his 
heavily fucking cock had placed in her mouth. She sucked at it frantically, 
as if she wanted more of it, as if she wanted her mouth violated by the 
spurting semen as she'd seen her own son's semen violate his teenage 
girlfriend's, Lys. And, in spite of her horror and revulsion at the lewd, 
obscene act she was committing, her own insides suddenly erupted in great 
white flashes of fire, trembling and tunneling through her veins in an 
endless stream of building pleasure. And then it burst deep up inside her. 
The invisible wall collapsed and she groaned around the thrusting cock in 
her mouth as the orgasm flooded in great sensual waves around the finger 
that now jerked rapidly in and out of her hotly clasping pussy from behind. 
It was like something she'd never dreamed of, indescribable, great waves of 
ecstasy and release that rushed through her body and made her scream with a 
muffled joy even as she held the giant truck driver's cock locked hungrily 
and tightly between her desperately working lips. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

"I'D probably be back at that same beer joint tomorrow afternoon," Bill 
said, lying on the bed with a sheet covering the bottom half of his huge 
hairy body. 

Katherine hardly even looked at him. Tears of shame streamed from her eyes 
as she pulled her clothing over her beautiful, violated body. 

It had betrayed her, somehow. That body she'd always kept so carefully under 
her control. In a blinding flash it had made a slave of her spirit, humbled 
her spirit with its hot grasping need and made her spirit yield to its 
unspeakable demands. The fact that she'd come here with this strange, 
uncouth man to this terrible place, the fact that she'd let his coarse hands 
use her luscious body, her most private and sacred parts, as playthings; the 
fact that she had committed adultery that should have been enough, terrible 
enough in itself. But she had liked it. She had screamed and begged for 
more, crazed out of her mind by the wanton sexual delirium. And when his 
body had demanded, hers had given. As the final proof of her degradation 
she'd yielded, fervently submitted even, to being fucked in the mouth by him 
after his penis was coated with the moist remains of their adulterous 
intercourse. She yielded to that revolting act just as Lys had, which only a 
day ago had so repulsed her, made her feel so pure and haughty. She'd given 
this stranger the same triumph over herself that she'd so perversely reveled 
in when watching her son use the young teenage girl's mouth as a receptacle 
for his cum. And in that act, the vision of Lys and Tom vivid in her mind as 
she so eagerly performed it, in the degradation and debasement, the 
relegation of every precept of decency to which she'd ever pretended, she 
achieved sexual climax. 

And only then, after the madness had passed, had she come back to herself, 
seen the sickness and vileness of what she'd done. 

"Hey, baby!" Bill said. 

Bitterly she turned toward him, looked with deadened eyes at his brawny 
physique and stupid, grotesque face. 

"That's no way to act. Didn't you enjoy it? 

"Yes," she said without emotion. "I enjoyed it." 

There was no reason to deny that. Even in all her guilt and self-repugnance 
she had to admit she'd enjoyed it. She'd enjoyed the obscenity of it, the 
degradation, the surrender of her morals. And even now, as she remembered 
that maddening wave of ecstasy, something in her body cried out for more. 
But she would never stoop to this again. She wouldn't yield to the flesh as 
she had today no matter how desperately it cried out to her. 

"Well, let's see a little gratitude then. How 'bout tomorrow?" 

"No. It's someone else I should be grateful to. I wasn't even thinking of 
you when we were doing it." 

She saw the red of anger flood his face as she turned abruptly and went out 
the door. 

Katherine didn't know how she was going to face her husband and son after 
what had happened. But it was the things she'd seen them doing as much as 
her guilt for her own action that made it difficult. Though she almost 
wanted to hate Tom for the thing she'd seen, she couldn't quite bring 
herself to that. She loved him, it seemed, even more dearly now. And the 
secret she held from him and knew she must keep from him, hung like an 
albatross about her neck, a horrible crushing, dragging weight. She had to 
contain the terrible knowledge that not only had he been betrayed by his 
girlfriend, whore that she was, but by his own father. And ultimately by his 
mother, Katherine, also. For how could a son look at his mother if he'd 
known of the terrible things she'd done today. 

She'd gone by the service station and picked up the car, then driven 
aimlessly about the outskirts of town for almost an hour. It was dark by the 
time she pulled into the drive and started, as a doomed person toward the 
gallows, up the steps and into the lighted house. 

The scene that greeted her in the den was not the somber one she'd expected, 
of silence and downcast eyes, currents of guilt and tension hanging in the 
air like a Web which trapped them. They were all three on the floor, Paul 
squatted like an Indian and Tom lounged on his side, head propped on an 
elbow, Lys stretched out on her belly to expose her taut rounded young 
buttocks that strained inside the tight levis. In the center of the triangle 
their bodies formed was a scrabble board. An ashtray had spilled on the rug 
and Katherine saw that they all three had drinks. They'd played almost all 
their letters and from the score tally Tom was keeping on the back of an old 
writing tablet, she saw that the game was very close. It was Paul's play and 
he made it even before he looked up to acknowledge her arrival. 

"I had a flat," she said before he asked why she was late. "Two of them. As 
I was coming back from Albuquerque." 

After she'd said that, she wondered why she'd bothered. Paul didn't seem 
worried about her, and he certainly had little excuse to question her 
whereabouts. And she hadn't planned to tell them anything. She hadn't even 
thought about the possible necessity of it. But something in her husband's 
manner had thrown her off guard. Instead of the sheepishness and guilt she'd 
expected, she sensed in his eyes an arrogance, an expression of triumph and 
pride. If he only knew, she thought, how she spent the day. It was Tom's go. 
Paul returned his attention to the board for a moment, then looked back at 
her. 

"Lys cooked an early dinner." He shrugged. "Or late lunch." 

"I've eaten," Katherine lied. 

Tom made a play and Lys instantly giggled. Paul leaned over and consulted 
the score sheet. 

"Play those three and you win, I guess." 

She smiled at him in a way that made no attempt to cover up for what they'd 
done this morning. "Then I guess I win." 

She picked up her last three letters in her hand; still concealing them, she 
looked up at Katherine with that same open warmth, of neither guilt or 
resentment, which had so vexed her even before she'd witnessed Lys and Tom 
in their lewd embrace. She extended her hand slowly to the board, down in 
the lower right corner, tracing along the word FAMILY spelled out on the 
bottom horizontal row. Then very slowly one at a time she dropped onto the 
last vertical row, that ran into FAMILY, the letters G, O, and R. Then she 
rearranged them to O, R, and G. ORGY, it spelled. At the end of FAMILY. 

"Hey, that's pretty good!" exclaimed Tom. 

With a sweep of the pen he drew a circle around Lys's initial on the score 
card. She was looking at Katherine again, her beautiful young face beaming 
with mischievous challenge. Paul's face flushed and he looked with extreme 
alarm at the wanton blonde with whom only this afternoon he'd reveled in 
adultery. Katherine stared in mute rage at the scrabble board for a moment, 
then turned and hurried out of the room. 

Katherine went to her and Paul's bedroom and slipped out of her clothes and 
into her housecoat, then to the main bathroom and started the tub running 
with the hottest water she thought she could stand. Then she peeled off the 
coat and carefully surveyed her exquisite naked body in the full length 
mirror. It looked no worse for the wear. There was a faint scratch mark 
beneath one of her breasts, but Paul would never notice it. And if he did he 
would logically conclude she would have gotten it any number of ways besides 
the way she did. And she felt all right physically. Her breasts were a 
little sore from the truck driver's hard sucking at her nipples, and her 
rectal passage felt a little sore and stretched from the violation of his 
thumb and she could still feel the wetness of his sperm pooling up inside 
her. Oh God! Just thinking about it made her want to shudder. But within a 
couple of days, there would be nothing physical to remind her of her sin. 
She hoped themental and emotional scars would also be prompt in fading. 

Almost half an hour of soaking in the hot bath made her feel nearly human 
again. Reluctantly she got out of the tub and dried off. As she stepped out 
of the bathroom she heard the engine of Tom's Volkswagen start. Then it 
pulled away from the house. When she got back to her bedroom she was 
surprised to find Paul sitting on the bed with a drink in his hand. 

"Tom and Lys went for a ride." 

"I bet they did," she said sarcastically. She started to take off her 
housecoat, then decided to wait a minute or two and see if her dear 
unfaithful husband would go somewhere else for his nightcap. 

"Why do you say that?" he asked after a moment. 

"No reason." 

He looked at her with eyes searching and intent. Yet she saw they were also 
full of desire. She wondered how, after what she'd seen this afternoon, he 
could want more. She'd have thought the little bitch would have been able to 
satisfy him. 

"You don't approve." 

"Driving around with a bed in their car?" she gasped, her voice almost 
cracking. "Living openly in fornication, and neither one of them have said a 
word about marriage being even the last thing in their minds." 

"Do you think that would help?" 

Something in the question or in the way he said it took her back. "Now just 
what do you mean by that?" 

"I mean do you think that would help the way you feel about Tom having a 
woman? Just a little wedding ring?" 

"Oh God, Paul! You don't understand!" she spat. 

"Truth strikes home again." 

Paul tossed his drink down and stood up. The rage passed through her like a 
blurring wave of inebriation, half blinding her with the tears that rushed 
to her eyes. The room seemed to turn and she thought she was going to fall. 
She wanted to scream at him, every lewd detail of everything that truck 
driver she had picked up had done to her this afternoon, and the obscene 
thing she'd done for him. 

But she didn't. She said nothing. After a moment that seemed an eternity she 
pulled the robe over her head and tossed it to the floor, exposing for him 
her satiny, naked body, and walked with eyes still almost closed toward the 
bed, as if entranced and as if she'd forgotten he was even there so that 
when he grabbed her, spinning her to face him and hugging her naked body to 
his, mashing her bared breasts with his chest, running his hands forcefully 
down her back, across her flaring buttocks, she was almost stunned. 

"I want to make love to you tonight, Katherine." 

She shook her head, but the motion of it seemed not so much a negative as a 
wildly sexual gesture, as she'd thrashed her head from side to side earlier 
today. She felt his hand part her naked buttock cheeks, a faint stinging 
pain as he moved his finger tip across her sore anus, then a flutter of 
longing as he sought out the smooth soft lips of her vagina. She sobbed 
slowly, pushing her body against him, trembling as his hand ignited a 
trembling passion. 

"But not like we've always done it," he croaked in her ear. "I want to 
really ... " 

His voice faded. He couldn't find the words. Instead he kissed her 
passionately on the lips, thrusting his tongue swiftly into her mouth, 
groping with it over her own tongue and teeth and palate, back toward her 
throat. He wormed his finger deeper into her vagina, spreading the eagerly 
seeping moisture that had rushed down to lubricate its invaded velvet walls. 
Through his trousers his cock brushed her thighs as it swelled toward its 
warm hot goal. 

She sobbed, wantonly responding to the kiss as she felt the familiar 
yearnings well in her body. Then suddenly she made a guttural sound of 
protest, drew her lips from his and wriggled out of his grasp. She backed 
away, sobbing from the pangs of frustration that rushed swiftly upon her, 
the body crying again as it had cried out before its triumph earlier today; 
yet now, as badly as she wanted to, she was unable to yield. 

Paul looked at her incredulously and shrugged helplessly, unable to form on 
his lips the question as to what was wrong with her. 

At last he managed to gasp: "Katherine?" 

"Haven't you had enough for one day?" she said. Immediately, though she 
didn't know why, she regretted saying it. 

She watched the sinking in his eyes, saw him half turn, then look back 
sheepishly. 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"Haven't you had enough to drink for one day?" she blurted. 

"What?" 

"Aren't you drunk enough for one day?" 

She was talking insanely and she thought it must sound as though she'd lost 
her mind. But for some reason she couldn't follow through on the question 
she'd immediately begun. She didn't want that in the open. She didn't want 
to enter that, which she sensed would become as an inquiry that would bring 
one by one each of the family secrets into the open. So instead: her insane 
sounding diversion. And it seemed to be working. She saw the confused relief 
in his eyes as he decided his original fear of the meaning of her first 
question had been founded not on the knowledge on her part, but guilt on his 
own. At last the arrogance he'd displayed rallied itself. 

"No. I haven't had enough to drink. But before this night's over I goddam 
well will." 

He stared angrily at her face, let his eyes drop for just a moment to the 
lovely black curls of pubic hair between her thighs. Then he turned away and 
stalked out of the room. 

Sobbing, the body over which she'd triumphed taking its evil vengeance in 
the lashing frustration which tore at her loins like so many starved rats, 
Katherine fell heavily on the bed. 

"This is where I got my first piece of ass," Tom said, gazing off the edge 
of the bluff before them to the rolling quilt of lights beneath. 

Lys squirmed on the seat beside him. The dashlight of the Volkswagen 
alluringly illuminated her body in a contrast of lights and shadows. They 
were both naked, but they hadn't gotten into the bed Tom had built in the 
back before they started their trip. 

"Tell me about her," she said. "Was she pretty?" 

"In the dark after four bottles of beer." 

"Was she a wicked woman of the world? A bar room hussy who recognized your 
hidden talents?" 

"No. She was a cheer leader on the pep squad and I'd just caught the pass 
that won the district championship." 

"You'll have to show me your scrapbook," she said, reaching down and 
beginning to stroke his already hardened young cock. 

"She has it. Or at least I hope she hasn't burned it or used it for toilet 
paper by now. I'd like to think of that scrapbook as the one, dark secret 
she still keeps from her husband." 

"She was married?" 

"She is now." His voice was getting shaky. She'd entwined her hand around 
his cock, glove tight, and was moving it rhythmically up and down. 

"Let's do it again," she said. "What?" 

"Re-live that first experience of yours. How did it start?" 

"Just like this." 

"Like what?" 

She stopped the movement of her hand for a moment and he flexed his 
pulsating member to urge her to begin again. 

"Like this. She was going to jack me off, and ... " 

"And?" 

He shrugged. "And I told her after all it was the district championship and 
since she'd jacked me off for covering the fumble that saved the Homecoming 
game, maybe she could see her way to ... "He paused. "Did you ever see 
anybody as hung up as my parents are?" 

"Yes." She gave a few more hard flicks of her wrists. "My parents, until I 
liberated them." 

She licked her lips, smiting seductively in the soft shadows, her little 
breasts goose bumped in the chill of the night. 

"Don't kid yourself." 

"I play scrabble for keeps. I mean every word I say." She leaned over and 
kissed the purplish tip of his rigid cock. "Now, let's get on with your 
defloration." 

 CHAPTER SIX 

"What's the matter, gal? Somebody jump you?" 

Katherine was startled from her depressed reverie by the jovial female voice 
behind her. Looking up she saw in the back bar-mirror the reflection of the 
corpulent, pleasant face of a peroxide blonde in a tight sweater and hot 
pants outfit. Though in no sense pretty, the woman was neither quite homely. 
She was just a little too fat for her dress to be taken quite seriously. Not 
completely without sex appeal, what she did have was simply comical in its 
exaggeration. 

"Well cheer up!" she boomed. "Haven't had anything like that happen to me in 
so long I've forgot what it feels like." 

Shamelessly she tugged at her brassiere, which seemed to be cutting into her 
gargantuan mammaries, and settled onto the bar stool beside Katherine. She 
ordered a beer and drank from the bottle. 

Katherine watched her furtively in the mirror and sipped her own drink. This 
was another one of those honky tonks that just a day or so ago she would 
never have imagined herself going into. There were the same songs on the 
jukebox she'd listened to and danced to yesterday, the same dismal, gadgety 
neon lighting, the same seamy atmosphere. But she'd felt a compulsion to 
come to a bar not so much for the alcohol, merely that she had to escape the 
house and didn't know where else to go. But she didn't want to see anyone 
she and Paul knew, and she certainly wouldn't have gone back to the other 
bar and taken a chance of seeing that truck driver, Bill, again. So this had 
to do. 

"An' where is that sonuvabitch anyhow?" 

Again the blonde's boisterous voice interrupted her train of thought. She 
looked up, impatient though the woman didn't seem to notice that. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"My goddamn fiance!" 

"Oh." 

"I'm Mabel," she said. "I got engaged last night, to an acquaintance of mine 
of some time standing, an' we were gonna have a little celebration party 
today if the sonuvabitch hasn't sobered up which I doubt and forgot which I 
wouldn't doubt a' tall." 

"I see." 

"Maybe you'd like to join us if he does show. He's bringin' a couple of his 
buddies and I'd feel better if I had another girl along." 

"No," Katherine said abruptly. 

Unabashed, the blonde touched her softly on the arm. "Well you just wait 
'til they get here to make up your mind, dear. A little fun never hurt 
anybody, especially when they're in a good mood like you look like you are." 
She winked, squeezing her arm. "Home movies. My fiance's bought a projector 
down at the pawn shop and one of his buddies has got some real good ones." 

Katherine blushed at the thought. She was sure she wasn't mistaken in her 
assumption that Mabel was talking about dirty movies, and the very 
suggestion that she might want to watch something like that rankled her. But 
she couldn't help wondering just how dirty they really were. 

"I doubt if well really ever get married though," the woman added, a note of 
sadness creeping into her voice. Then she smiled. "But it's nice to play the 
game especially when you've been at it as long as I have." 

Katherine tried to smile. Something in the woman's manner then had struck a 
chord in herself. She felt sympathy, almost understanding. It was easy 
enough for her to imagine the kind of life Mabel must have had. She thought 
that after all she must have been through, Mabel would probably laugh at the 
things that had put Katherine in the dumps. But for Katherine, the problems 
were still real enough. In a span of little more than twenty-four hours she 
not only had seen her son and her husband having intercourse with the same 
woman, but she'd almost participated with them, spiritually or emotionally 
at least, and she'd fingerfucked herself. And for the first time in her life 
she'd committed adultery with a man she hardly knew and certainly had not 
been strongly attracted to. And she'd had oral intercourse, as they called 
it. And somehow, amid all this lewd degradation, she'd had an orgasm. 

A twinge of nostalgia contrary to everything she wanted to feel now caused 
her stomach to flutter. For a moment she seemed to relive those moments of 
desperate longing. When she spoke it was in a voice that hardly seemed her 
own: "These movies? What do they do?" 

"Why they do about anything you ever dreamed of," Mabel laughed, her voice 
resuming its own jovial tone. 

Katherine bit her lip. She was thinking again about the eerie feelings that 
had surged through her as she was watching Paul and Lys in the patio and 
earlier Tom and Lys in his bedroom. It seemed she couldn't stop the next 
question that jumped to her lips. 

"Do they show people ... having ... sex?" 

"My lord, you are interested!" 

"I'm just curious," Katherine said, blushing again. She took a hurried drink 
of her gin and tonic. 

"Well they show that," Mabel said. "And they show a lot more than that. But 
I'm not going to tell you what it is. You'll just have to come along and see 
for yourself if you really want to know." 

"Maybe," Katherine said, wondering how she could really mean it. 

They drank silently for a few minutes. Mabel ordered her another drink and 
got a beer and a shot of whiskey for herself. Katherine was beginning to 
loosen up. The alcohol really did make her feel better. Though she knew what 
she'd done yesterday was still a terrible sin, now she was beginning to feel 
that at least she'd be able to live with it. 

"There they are now," Mabel said suddenly. 

Katherine looked up at the door and saw the first of the three men, carrying 
a package that obviously contained several reels of film. He was short and 
thin and had a whiskey drinker's red nose and bloodshot eyes. Behind him was 
a taller, gangly redneck type. The third one was Bill, the truck driver that 
had ravished her so wildly in that broken down motel room the day before. 

"Well here's my favorite fiance now!" Mabel said, bouncing off the bar stool 
and lunging at the man with the reels, whom she almost crushed in her strong 
fat arms. Then she kissed the gangly one, shook hands with Bill, and turned 
back to Katherine. "My lover here, Jack. And this is Clyde, an' this big 
one's Bill. I didn't get your name, honey?" 

"Katherine," Katherine whispered. 

"Give us three beers," Jack told the bartender. 

"An' this is Katherine," said Mabel, turning back to the men. 

"We've met," Bill interrupted. 

Katherine averted her eyes. She couldn't look at him. She felt dirty all 
over a dirt that was far more than skin deep. The whole world around her had 
taken on an eerie, nightmarish quality. It didn't seem real anymore. 

"Katherine's comin' along to the party with us," Mabel announced. 

She thought she could feel the men's eyes on her body. She thought that 
shamelessly each of them was undressing her in their minds. But she couldn't 
bring herself to look up and verify this probability. 

"I've changed my mind," she said, still in a whisper. "I don't think I can 
go." 

"Don't be silly," said Mabel, taking her arm and tugging her toward the 
door. "Drink up, boys. Jack, you gonna take care of our bill?" 

"I sort of thought I'd be seeing you again," said Bill. 

Rallying her courage, Katherine lifted her eyes. She looked at him with an 
anger that was only intensified by the mocking glint in his eye. She wet her 
mouth with her tongue before she spoke in a cracking voice: "I just want you 
to know that what happened yesterday was ... an exception to the way ... I 
live. I don't do that sort of thing. I won't do it again." 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mabel staring at her with amazement. 
Both the other men were leering at her. 

Bill grinned and shrugged. "Don't mind me, babe. I can take pussy or leave 
it. Ain't that right, Mabel?" 

"Keep your goddamn dirty hands off her," growled Jack. 

"Have I touched her?" 

"I dunno, have you?" 

They both laughed. Jack pulled out a crumpled wad of bills and paid the 
bartender. Incredibly it seemed, the three men had already finished their 
beers and Mabel was hustling them, along with Katherine, toward the door. 

"I've got to go home," she said. 

"Nonsense," Mabel said. 

Katherine noticed almost dumbly as they went out the door that the skinny 
one, Clyde, had his hand up the crevice of Mabel's fat buttocks. 

Katherine didn't know whether the sparsely furnished two-room apartment they 
went to belonged to Jack or Clyde, but it didn't seem to make any 
difference. Everyone but her acted immediately at home and set themselves to 
the tasks at hand: setting up the movie projector and hanging the screen 
which consisted only of an old bed sheet, mixing and distributing drinks, or 
in Mabel's case just finding a comfortable vantage point before the screen 
and drinking. Mabel settled onto the couch. Katherine was going to join her 
but Clyde sat down on her left side. Her right was obviously reserved for 
Jack as the projector had been situated there on the coffee table. Feeling 
insecure as a wallflower at a high school dance, Katherine slipped into a 
straight-backed chair that sat alone near the corner of the room. She hoped 
by setting herself apart she could discourage either of the two extra men 
from trying to pair off with her. She wanted nothing more to do with Bill; 
she'd come here just to see the movies, because she was curious. 

Mabel tried to prompt her to take the one easy chair, situated near the end 
of the couch, but she refused. There was too much room in it and she was 
sure Bill would have joined her there. But she was grateful for the drink 
Jack brought her at Mabel's urging. Then Bill cut the lights off and took 
his own place in the easy chair and Jack started the first reel. Though the 
curtains didn't completely blot out the afternoon sun, they were effective 
enough that the picture was clear and sharply contrasted. 

On screen was what appeared to be a motel bedroom. There was a young, pretty 
girl who looked like a hippie with hair almost as long as Lys's, dressed in 
only a pair of bikini pants, with bracelets weighting both her wrists like 
shackles and beads half hiding her small ripe breasts. At an apparent 
off-screen cue she began to dance, writhing slowly like a charmed cobra, her 
arms extended into the air above her head, her small shapely buttocks 
undulating suggestively. The camera dollied and panned, changing the angle 
and shooting past her to include the bed, where a boy who didn't look more 
than fifteen years old lounged in the nude, watching her hungrily, his long 
thin cock standing straight in the air amid his thin cluster of pubic hair. 

Involuntarily Katherine gasped. Then to her surprise the screen went black 
and she heard Jack curse softly. 

"What's the matter?" she croaked. 

"Hey calm down," Mabel said. 

"Wrong goddamned reel," muttered Jack. "I didn't bring you here to watch a 
bunch of cocksuckin' hippies!" 

Katherine felt a surge of bitter disappointment. The sight of that young, so 
innocent looking boy had struck a raw nerve in her. Even as she'd thought of 
the disgusting aspects of the spectacle, of the fact that what would follow, 
certainly fucking and no-telling what else, would have been done not in 
private out of lust and passion but in front of a director and camera man 
and perhaps even other technicians solely for the purpose of exploiting the 
public, she'd found herself craving to participate as a voyeur in the act as 
she had two nights ago in an act that had stemmed from lust and passion and 
she presumed even a perverted love. 

"Here's the goddamn thing," Jack said, fitting another reel on the 
projector. "This is that thing from Old Mexico I was tellin' you about, 
honey." 

The screen lit up again to show what appeared to be a stage in a sleazy 
night club. A master of ceremonies, obviously a Mexican, came before the 
curtain and made a few remarks, though what he'd said couldn't be known as 
the film was silent. Then the ragged curtains behind him opened to reveal 
the stage, empty except for a large bed with an iron bedstead. The M.C. went 
to the eaves and returned leading a ravenous Mexican girl dressed in a tight 
black dress which accented the curves of her voluptuous body, complimented 
her raven-colored hair and flashing black eyes. He turned to the camera, 
made a few more inaudible remarks, and the girl bowed, a faint smile playing 
on her full lips. As the M.C. exited she began to undress, slipping the long 
dress slowly upwards to expose her well-defined calves and rounded thighs. 
The black of her long silk stockings, held in place by a lace-trimmed garter 
belt, contrasted sharply with her rich dark flesh. Then the dress snaked its 
way over her head and her beautifully rounded torso emerged. Her bra fell to 
the floor with but a flick of her finger behind her back and the full beauty 
of her firm, ripe breasts was revealed. 

"Now watch this," said Jack. "This was shot live in a Tijuana night club. If 
you look close you can see some of the audience some times. This is really 
happening!" 

"So what'll it be, a donkey or a dog?" Mabel asked. 

Bill guffawed and Katherine shivered at the thought of such an absurd 
proposition. 

The girl's breasts stood up high and proud in the stage light and her 
nipples, which were almost maroon against her rich brown flesh, stood out on 
the luscious spheres, peaked higher as she raised her arms high over her 
head, pulling the long black hair up, then releasing it to cascade softly 
over her alluring shoulders. 

She was naked now except for her high heels and long black hose, the garter 
belt and her flimsy, almost transparent panties through which was visible 
the dark shadow of the vee of her black pubic hair. She turned arid bent 
over slowly, her ripe velvety buttocks to the screen, and pulled the hose 
tantalizingly down off them, and sensuously down her smooth thighs and 
calves. She discarded them at her feet, then wriggled out of the panties and 
naked except for the garter belt, turned back to expose the intimate dark 
beauty between her silken thighs. 

Katherine shifted her eyes momentarily from the screen and saw that Mabel 
was unbuttoning Jack's trousers, now removing his already hard cock, 
stroking it gently with her pudgy hands. Nervously she averted her eyes from 
this scene, back to the screen. She would have got up and gone now, but she 
felt a compulsion to see what was going to happen next, what kind of a man 
the girl's partner would be. 

Now she lay back on the bed, writhing languidly as if beneath an imaginary 
lover who was already stroking her body to life. She caressed herself on the 
breasts, her fingers tweaking her soft nipples to even riper firmness. Her 
legs scissored open and closed slowly, exposing for a moment the thin slit 
of her vagina nestled teasingly in the soft, darkly curling pubic hair 
between her thighs. Her buttocks twisted against the mattress. Sheer wanton 
desire shone in her eyes. Her hand moved from her breasts down her belly and 
slipped between her thighs, and sensuously she began to stroke the silken 
pubic hair until the pink bud of her clitoris emerged. 

And strangely, in spite of her resolve not to, Katherine felt a 
disquietening longing flood her own body. She knew what desire was now, the 
desire that could push a woman to the delirium of fingering herself, or push 
her to commit acts she thought sordid and obscene. Though it was only an 
act, and though she knew the girl probably felt none of the emotions 
displayed in the tortured expression on her face on screen, Katherine 
suspended her disbelief. It seemed real to her. And she felt the resolve 
she'd made as she'd first come here weakening. She knew it was just a matter 
of time until she was going to have to try to say no to somebody, at least 
from the way Mabel was going after her fiance on the couch. 

Now as the girl on screen frantically undulated between the manipulations of 
her hand on her clitoris and in her vagina, the M.C. walked back on stage 
and stood, apparently without her knowledge, at the head of the bed, 
watching her writhing body with a lewd smile. Her movements increased in 
speed, her hand stroking more rapidly, the strain in her face becoming more 
and more obvious. Then, just as it appeared she was about to cum, the M.C. 
leaned over from the back of the bedstead and seized both her arms, pulling 
them over her head and between the brass bars. 

The girl's body contorted as though in agony and her mouth opened wide as 
she voiced a silent scream. For a moment she struggled, then unable to free 
her arms from the M.C. 's strong grasp, she let her body sink limply, her 
breasts heaving with her strained breathing. She watched with stupefied, 
teared eyes as the man took a small nylon cord from his pocket and carefully 
bound both her wrists together, crossed, and then with the remaining length 
of cord attached the bound wrists to one of the bars on the bedstead above 
her head. Then he turned back to the camera and the supposedly existent 
audience and made several more remarks, which from the look on his face he 
apparently took to be very humorous. He and the camera returned their 
attention to the bound, naked girl. For a moment she did nothing. It was as 
though the absurdity of her predicament had shocked her beyond credence and 
she only lay motionless, staring stupidly between her heaving breasts down 
the length of her yearning, tingling body. Then she began to tug at the 
cords that bound her. She contorted her body wildly, undulating and hunching 
her satiny hips, thrusting her loins into the air as if groping madly for an 
imaginary organ there to ease the agony of her craving. Her face formed what 
was unquestionably a scream for mercy, and on the edge of the screen the 
M.C. could be seen, laughing at and mocking her. She tugged harder at the 
ropes, until they must have cut into her wrists, arching her exposed, 
vulnerable breasts, drawing them even more taut. A I shudder passed the 
length of her surrendered body. Then she lifted one leg, cocking it at the 
knee, and trailed her foot up the tender flesh of the inner thigh of her 
other leg, straining, reaching ... It was hopeless. It wouldn't quite reach. 
Her vagina cried out to be touched and there was no way she could do it. 
Sobbing, she began to scoot her hips back and forth on the bed as though in 
the hope that little friction on her anus would somehow ease her unbearable 
hunger. 

Katherine lifted her drink and guzzled the last half glass of the gin and 
tonic, mostly gin. Out of the corner of her mouth she saw Mabel bend down 
and take her fiance's penis in her mouth, licking gently over the big purple 
tip of it, gradually lowering her head farther and taking more of it into 
her widely ovaled mouth. She made an obscene gurgling sound as Jack drove 
his loins upward, squirming with obvious excitement on the couch. As Mabel 
bent farther over she presented her globular buttocks, clearly out-lined in 
the absurd tight hot pants. Clyde pushed his hand between the two mounds and 
began to prod her cunt from the outside of her pants. Bill's attention for 
the moment was still focused on the screen where the girl continued to 
writhe in the agony of her frustration. 

Katherine got up and stumbled to the kitchen and poured herself almost a 
full glass of gin, added only a splash of the tonic, and returned to the 
living room. The effect of the film, though it seemed infinitely more lewd 
and obscene and sinful, was somewhat the same as the effect of her two 
voyeuristic episodes. She was so hot she could hardly stand it, yet it 
seemed that the longing engulfed more than just her body, seemed that her 
very being, her spirit, were hypnotized and mesmerized with the wanton 
contortions of the bound girl on screen. She felt that she must have always 
been at least symbolically in the same predicament: her body crying out to 
be touched, her hands hopelessly bound, satisfaction beyond her reach. "Now 
watch this!" Jack hissed. An anguished cry burst involuntarily from 
Katherine's throat. 

On screen the camera angle had shifted suddenly to shoot past the girl's 
bound and waiting body onto the eaves of the opposite side of the stage. An 
old Mexican man in a straw hat and farmer's clothing had entered. Straining 
on a leash before him was the largest, most vicious-looking German shepherd 
Katherine had ever seen. 

The girl froze. For an instant her splendid naked body was inert as if in 
deep slumber. Only her eyes reflected the consciousness of her mind. eyes 
now wild and wide with terror. Her tongue darted from her mouth to moisten 
her voluptuous lips, and down she gazed between her taut, arched breasts 
over the smooth contours of the satiny flesh of her defenseless body. In the 
background, the dog strained at its leash, baring his sharp snaggled teeth 
in a visually perceptible growl. The M.C. bent toward the girl's face and 
asked her something. Tears streaming from her eyes, she shook her head so 
frantically her long back hair was whipped wildly from side to side. Again 
she struggled futilely at her fetters. The M.C. said something else, a lewd 
smile adorning his frightening face. He placed one of his hands on her 
breasts, tweaking the nipples to even riper hardness, and trailed the hand 
lightly down her stomach, dawdling for an instant at her navel before 
brushing it through the hair at her pubis, over her tortured clitoris, and 
removing it. The woman sighed; she looked for a moment as if she would 
swoon, and her body writhed gently. Then the M.C. said something else and 
the fright returned to her eyes and again her vocal protests were obvious 
even if they could not be heard. 

Katherine averted her eyes from the screen. She saw that Mabel was now 
rec-lined on the couch on her side, her face in Jack's lap, turned toward 
the screen so she could watch the movie even as she sucked him. Clyde was 
taking care of the lower half of her body. He pulled the hot pants down off 
her fat white buttocks and was feverishly fingering her pussy and tickling 
her tight brown little anus with his thumb. Embarrassed, Katherine averted 
her eyes a second time and found herself staring at Bill. He in turn was 
staring back at her, a look of lewd, challenging triumph in his eyes. He 
patted the arm of the easy chair beside him and motioned for her to come 
over. A soft, almost whimpering sob escaped her and she shook her head and 
looked back at the screen. She knew he'd seen the rampant desire in her 
eyes. 

On screen the M.C. gestured at the old man with the dog, and as the girl 
continued to kick and struggle and scream in protest, he bent and unsnapped 
the leash. The dog bounded forward and leaped onto the bed between her 
thighs, which the beautiful Mexican girl had reflexively spread to prevent 
the animal's landing on them with all four nailed paws. Now she froze in 
terror, not daring to move as the dog growled menacingly over her, his great 
panting head just above her defenseless parted thighs. 

Katherine wanted to jump up and run screaming from the room. But now her 
eyes were transfixed by the spectacle on the screen. The desire that 
consumed her body was no longer merely lewd or obscene; it was warped. The 
vision of the shackled girl at the mercy of the vicious dog sent shivers of 
revulsion tingling over her skin, yet she was fascinated. She got a sadistic 
joy out of the beautiful, but helpless young creature's plight, and a 
correlative masochistic joy out of her own twisted identity with it. 

The dog lowered its head to the defenseless girl's body, sniffing the silken 
strands of pubic hair between her thighs. The girl's hips twitched in terror 
as its long tongue drooped from his mouth and lapped at her clitoris, then 
sank lower, sliding across the exposed slit of her already moistened cunt. 
For a moment longer she held her body tense with fear. Then she started to 
squirm away. But another growl from the terrible looking animal stilled that 
urge. She closed her eyes with resignation, ready to submit to her ordeal. 

Then the dog began to lap greedily at the narrow pink slit between her 
thighs. He ran his tongue wetly the full length of it, flicking it out to 
caress her legs, spreading it wetting the hair that -lined the fluted, pink 
edges of the slit. Gradually the girl's body began to respond, at first a 
gentle shifting that from the look in her eyes surprised her. But then the 
terror and revulsion faded, replaced again by the wanton hunger that she'd 
displayed as she'd frantically tried to relive her voracious desire before 
the beast appeared. Again she mouthed a cry, this time wantonly, 
deliriously. Again she seemed to be struggling at her bonds, but in fact it 
was apparent that she was using them for leverage as she began to squirm and 
writhe and undulate her satiny hips in response to the animal's tongue 
tantalizing her fragrant vagina. And at last she kicked her legs up over her 
head, presenting the dog with even greater access to her nakedly exposed 
young pussy, inviting him to lick it, to thrust his long pointed nose into 
her lubricated vulva, to satiate the desire that tormented her. 

Suddenly Katherine was on her feet. Sobbing as she tore her eyes from the 
screen, she stumbled toward the door. As if it were distant, she heard the 
lewd wet slurping noise of Mabel sucking her fiance's cock. It sounded 
bizarre and surrealistic, like the bizarre, surrealistic nightmare she'd 
been watching on the screen, like the unnatural wanton craving that had 
seized her being and from which she thought she must flee this minute or 
give up and yield herself and her body irrefutably to its dark bondage. 

Bill caught her at the door. She hadn't even been aware of his movement but 
he was standing in front of her, directly in her path, and she was walking 
on toward him as though he didn't exist and she thought she would be able to 
walk straight through him and out of that horrible nightmare. Then he caught 
her, holding her almost limp body to his, and turned her back to face the 
screen. 

At the M.C.'s directions, the girl was rolling over onto her belly, pulling 
her knees up under her body to thrust her buttocks into the air, a position 
to which the application of that old phmse "dog fashion" was about to become 
a lurid double-entendre. 

With another sob Katherine jerked her face from the screen again and buried 
it in the curve of the truck driver's neck, her body shaking, tears spilling 
from her eyes. Again as a distant sound she could hear the noises of the 
three on the couch, and though she was only half conscious of it she thought 
there must be a struggle going on. Then she turned her face upward hungrily, 
her lips meeting Bill's. In an instant she abandoned all hope of winning the 
feeble struggle against her desire. Giving in, she sucked his tongue into 
her mouth as eagerly as yesterday she sucked his cock. And for a timeless 
passage, she seemed to float unconsciously, away in an ecstatic void all her 
own. Then Jack's voice startled her back to reality: "Get your goddamn 
finger outta there you sonuvabitch!" 

She looked back at the couch. Jack and Clyde sat turned to face each other. 
Mabel, still rec-lined, was out of her view. 

"Now I mean it," said Jack. "You wanna play shares with somebody play shares 
with Bill." 

"I didn't mean no harm," said Clyde, turning toward Katherine and rising to 
his feet. 

She just glimpsed the gleam in his eye before her attention was recaptured 
by the picture on the screen. As she felt Bill begin to unbutton her dress 
down the back she didn't resist. 

The girl was on all fours and the huge German shepherd mounted the spread 
mounds of her buttocks, resting the weight of his chest on her back, his 
legs dangling beside her arms almost to the bed. The glistening red penis, 
which now looked as large as a man's, and a well-hung man at that, slipped 
from its sheath, dripping fluid, and the tapered point slipped and danced 
into the hot wet crevice as the animal trembled and jerked, trying to bury 
the tapered point and the thick long shaft in her body. Sobbing, the girl 
looked back. Again she made an effort to free herself from the bonds which, 
though they allowed her the liberty to turn over to assume the position the 
animal required, still held her a prisoner at its savage mercy. 

Bill pulled the dress off Katherine's shoulders and she felt it slither 
gently to the floor. Again she averted her eyes from the screen and watched 
Clyde walk toward her, his own eyes devouring her curved, well-tanned body 
that was protected now only by her nylon brassiere, panties, and hose. She 
bit her Hp and feebly shook her head. She was going to tell them that she 
wasn't going to do the thing they must certainly be expecting now: that she 
make love to both of them, take turns, be a gang fuck like some girls she 
had heard about long ago in school. But the words didn't come to her lips. 

Bill flicked his finger and her brassiere sprang loose in the back. He 
pulled the straps apart and her gorgeous, long and pointed breasts sprang 
free. The caress of the air caused her nipples to assume immediate rigidity. 
Standing behind her, he seized the elastic tops of her panties and jerked 
them down off her buttocks, ripping them loose and pulling them free of her 
garter belt, exposing her velvety buttocks for himself in the back, and for 
the other man, Clyde, in front, the lovely black curling triangle of pussy 
hair that crested her pubis and a vague glimpse of the top of her already 
slick and moist vaginal cunt. 

Then Clyde was upon her, his hands pawing hungrily at her exposed breasts, 
and she was trying to wriggle away from him and could feel her buttocks 
brush Bill's crotch on the outside of his trousers, and felt Bill's arms 
come around her from behind to push Clyde's hands away from her naked 
breasts. 

"You can help now," Bill said. "And you can have sloppy seconds if there's 
anything left of her after I'm finished. But I've got a little score to 
settle and you'll goddamn sure wait!" 

"I didn't mean no harm," Clyde repeated, backing away. 

He must have an I.Q. of about 26, Katherine found herself thinking, and the 
thought was so absurd as to be almost, but not quite, comical. Then she 
remembered dully her parting words to Bill yesterday afternoon. But she 
didn't resist as he pushed her toward the rug spread on the floor in the 
corner of the room and urged her down to her knees. Then he sat down beside 
her and shoved her to a reclining position on her back, jerking her thighs 
that were still covered by the sheer hose wide apart. Clyde followed timidly 
as a puppy dog. 

"Take her arms," Bill commanded him, "and hold 'em down." 

Katherine sobbed, shaking her head. She didn't quite even grasp the 
implication of that, but she felt some last strain of decency that compelled 
her to make at least a token refusal to everything they tried. For a moment 
Clyde also didn't seem to understand. Then he fell down beside her and 
seized her wrists, pulling her limp arms above her head to arch her breasts 
tantalizingly, like the girl in the film moments ago, and pin them hard to 
the floor. 

"Now hold her good and don't let her loose till tell you," said Bill. 

She screamed, kicking and struggling, tugging desperately to free her arms. 
But it was useless. He seemed as strong as he was stupid. She might as well 
have been chained. 

Gripped with terror, Katherine squeezed her legs closed. Her body twisted 
wildly as she tried to squirm away from the big hairy form that was lowering 
itself toward her unprotected vaginal slit. It seemed then in an instant her 
whole body broke out in a sweat and the contours of her writhing flesh 
glistened in the darkness. Then she felt Bill's hands at her knees, pushing 
her thighs apart again. She closed her eyes and cried out once more in 
protest. Then the cry evolved, gradually, to a soft moan of ecstasy as she 
felt his mouth wetly touch the widespread lips of her naked pussy, as she 
felt the first electric charges of pleasure titillate her loins and go 
shooting outward through her body as his tongue invaded the moist slit of 
her cunt and began a limber, tantalizing probing and curling up inside. 

For a moment she surrendered completely to the joy his tongue sent rippling 
into her loins. She lay still, sobbing softly, her pinioned arms limp. Then 
she spread her thighs wider, planting her feet flat and solidly on the floor 
out on either side of him. She arched her hips up to meet his face, 
undulating and hunching them hungrily upward as his tongue darted like the 
tongue of a carnivorous lizard in and out of the soft velvety inner folds. 
She felt his hands slide beneath her, seizing the flesh of her tender 
buttocks, guiding her movements to suit his own taste. She tugged at her 
arms and found a strange, engulfing security at the knowledge that she 
couldn't resist, that she was completely at their mercy and there was no way 
she could have refused the wanton pleasure Bill gave her by eating and 
licking at her pussy even if she had wanted to. She began to moan and 
whimper softly, urging him on, to thrust his tongue deeper, to suck harder 
on her tingling pleading clitoris. 

"Oh yes," she whispered. "Yes, it feels so good." 

"Goddamn, she'd really likin' it," she heard Clyde say. 

She continued to moan and cry as if in a strange religious chant. It seemed 
nothing had ever felt so good as this, as the liquid and limber tongue 
slipping wetly in and out and around her vagina, the lips caressing her 
clitoris. Her legs splayed out and using her stationed arms for leverage she 
jackknifed her knees up high and pressed her knees back hard against her 
lewdly swaying breasts to open her cunt as wide as she could to him. He 
pulled the upturned crevice of her crotch even further apart with his hands, 
stretching it cruelly as if he wanted to gore out the forbidden depths of 
her open cuntal cavity with his tongue. Then he dropped from her vagina, 
brushing it lightly over her tight puckered anus, sending a more bizarre 
tingle of pleasure through her. Then his lips moved back up to her clitoris 
and began to suck her even more in earnest. 

A strange masochistic wildness had taken hold of her body as she lay, 
spread-eagled and helpless before him as he ravished her clitoris and cunt 
with his lips and tongue. She ground her hips in wild abandon against the 
maddening limber probing. Suddenly, nothing mattered but the pleasure and 
the demand for more pleasure that filled her loins and rippled over every 
inch of her naked flesh. There was nothing else in the world and she writhed 
and twisted beneath his impalement, gasping and screaming as though gripped 
in religious delirium, seized by tongues. 

"Oh god yes! Suck me! Suck me harder! I'm going to cum!" 

Her body worked beneath his, her thighs spasmodically opening and closing on 
the sides of his head, her vaginal juices flowing out hotly over his lips 
and cheeks as the orgasm approached. Her belly began to rise and fall 
quickly and her head flailed wildly from side to side on the rug. She 
thrashed her pinioned body about crazily and he thrust his tongue deeper, 
Shoving her to the verge of it again where it had seemed she lingered so 
long yesterday, there where she could almost reach out and touch it, where 
it beckoned to her, demanded her to come to it, out of herself. 

Then a terrible sob escaped her. He left her and she could hear him 
straightening up between her thighs. She jerked her arms and found them 
still pinioned above her, tears rushing down her cheeks as she opened her 
eyes. 

He'd straightened up to a kneeling position between her still wide-spread, 
quivering thighs. She stared at him with disbelief, her body contorted by 
her sobs. 

"What the hell's wrong?" said Clyde. 

Bill laughed. "I think that's what she's wondering. But you just keep your 
mouth shut and hold her and you'll both find out soon enough." 

He dropped a hand between her thighs and brushed it just softly over the 
hungrily quivering little slit of her vagina. A tremor went though her body. 
Then she hissed as he took it away. 

"I got a little idea watching that movie," he explained. "Now tell me, 
honey, what do you want." 

"My god," she cried with disbelief. "I want to cum again!" 

"Again?" 

"Like yesterday," she sobbed. "Please!" 

"Now we're getting somewhere. Who were you thinking about yesterday when I 
was fucking you?" 

"What?" 

He loosened one of her nylons from the garter belt and peeled it tediously 
off the rich silken flesh of her thigh. Again she shivered with longing. 

"Who were you thinking about? You said it wasn't me. Who was it?" 

She shook her head feebly. "No. Don't talk about that. Just fuck me and make 
me cum!" 

"Who was it?" he said, laughing, again lightly brushing her torturously 
trembling vagina with his hand and causing the terrible desire and 
frustration that gripped her to flourish as if in an ovation that mocked her 
body and spirit. 

"Nobody," she whimpered weakly. 

"NOW GODDAMN IT I WANNA KNOW!" 

"My husband." 

"You're lying." 

"All right," she cried. "It was nothing. Just get on top of me and fuck me! 
Please fuck me! Please!" 

"All of us?" Bill laughed. "Clyde and Jack too?" 

"Yes. I don't care who, just fuck me." 

He began to tenderly stroke her clitoris again. "Then answer my question and 
we will. Who was it?" 

"My son," she gasped, her body sagging. 

"I'll be goddamned, I should have guessed." 

He started unbuttoning his trousers and above her head, out of her sight, 
she could hear Clyde rustling with his belt. Out of the corner of her eye 
she caught another glimpse of the screen. 

The show had apparently ended. The M.C. had just finished untying the girl 
and now she dropped to her feet before the bed, smiling unashamedly in her 
lovely nakedness, bowed toward the camera, then leaned to pet the dog, which 
was wagging its tail like a playful pup. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

"What's the matter with mother?" 

Paul Beauchamp was taken completely off-guard by the abruptness and 
directness of his son's question. And though he'd understood it clearly 
enough, he felt obliged to stall for time. 

"What do you mean?" 

"You know what I mean, She's not herself. She's not even here. And she 
wasn't here yesterday. And ... Jesus, Dad. You know what I mean." 

"I guess she just can't stand the shock of you coming here with ... Lys." 
Paul wondered what his wife would think if she knew that at this very moment 
Lys was sunbathing naked in their patio, or if just yesterday he'd fucked 
her right there in that patio while Katherine was running her errand in 
Albuquerque. But strangely, today he didn't give a goddamn. He was tired of 
the whole damned mess, of the nights of scuffling with her frigid body, of 
living a vegetable's married life. Yesterday with Lys seemed to have opened 
his eyes. 

"I guess I shouldn't have brought her," Tom said bitterly. "I should have 
dropped her in Albuquerque and come up here just for a couple of days, 
alone. But I wanted mother to accept me as I really am not the castrated All 
American dream boy she wanted. I think we'll probably leave a few days 
early. This isn't doing any good." 

"Don't do that," Paul said, and instantly thought he'd spoken too quickly. 
He waited for a moment, but Tom didn't seem to have noticed anything. "I 
mean, give her a few days to adjust." 

"Yeah, maybe," Tom sighed, rising. "I think I'll see if Lys has anything she 
wants to do and if she doesn't I'll go play a few games of pool in town." 

"Yeah ... why not?" Paul said, looking away guiltily as he seized the hope 
that he'd get a chance to repeat yesterday's episode with his son's teenage 
young girlfriend. 

He waited, on edge, reading the paper but paying no attention to the words, 
until Tom came back. 

"She says she doesn't." Paul's son shrugged, perhaps uncomfortably. "Guess 
I'll see you later, Dad." 

"Yeah, sure." 

Paul listened to the rumbling as the Volkswagen engine started, then heard 
it back out of the drive and move away. The sound grew gradually softer, at 
last inaudible. He waited a couple of more minutes, sweat breaking out on 
his forehead as he imagined the sight of the lovely blonde body stretched 
out naked and waiting in the warm sun. He'd been anticipating this 
possibility ever since Katherine had said she was going into town to visit 
one of her girlfriends for the afternoon. Actually, he'd anticipated it 
since this morning when he'd decided not to go to the office, where by all 
rights he should be even though there was nothing that couldn't be put off 
until tomorrow. But Christ! Who could blame him after what he'd been through 
with Katherine, and after the fuck the little gal had given him yesterday? 

Suddenly resolute, Paul tossed his newspaper aside and stood up. He paused 
for a moment, almost relishing the surety of his own determination. Then he 
walked out of the living room and back to the patio. 

She looked as if she was asleep. Her eyes were closed, her golden face 
turned upward into the sun. Her arms were stretched out, palms up, to either 
side of her body to arch and part her small, firm and naked breasts. Her 
thighs were just a few inches apart, just enough that he could see nestled 
in the thin, blondly curling pubic hair the soft shadow of the line of the 
slit of her fragrant young cunt. 

It was as beautiful a sight as he'd ever seen in his life, a pose of 
flawless pulchritudity in innocent, open and unreserved surrender. As though 
loath to disturb the beauty of a last sanctuary of virgin nature, he 
tip-toed onto the tile, toward her, avoiding her lovely body with his very 
shadow until he could come to a halt near her feet. 

She opened her eyes slowly, squinting in the bright sunlight, and looked up 
at him. 

"Care to join me again?" 

"In the bedroom," he said tersely. 

An intrigued smile crept over her face. 

"All right," she said after a moment. "I'd like to get fucked in Tom's 
mother's bed." 

She got to her feet with his assistance, picked up the towel she'd lain on, 
and walked with him naked to the bedroom. As he watched the gentle flowing 
motion of the movement of her firm naked hips, the long blond hair swishing 
against the curve of her lower back, Paul again felt the appreciation and 
jealousy for his son. But his guilt was fading, replaced by a cool, seething 
anger. He was going to fuck her like she'd never been fucked in her life. He 
was going to fuck her for Tom, and for Katherine his frigid wife. He was 
going to fuck her for all the years he'd wasted. He was going to summon 
forth all the frustrated energy that had lain almost dormant in him. 

He closed the bedroom door and as a rather useless precaution threw the 
latch, then he urged her over to the bed. As Lys rec-lined on her back, 
pushing the pillows off to the floor out of then-way, Paul slowly undressed, 
unflinching and no longer hesitant before her eager watching eyes. His 
bashfulness from yesterday had gone. He tossed his shirt aside and in a 
single motion pulled off both his trousers and shorts. His cock, which was 
already bursting hard, was bent down by the gesture and sprang back upward 
to freedom like an unleashed catapult. He heard the girl's soft hiss of 
admiration and saw the eager red flush to her face, the wanton glassy look 
fill her eyes as she sensed his brutal lust. Languidly she stretched her 
lithe golden body in anticipation as he walked to the bed and sat down 
beside her, pausing to relish the flawless naked beauty for a moment before 
he leaned over slowly and touched his lips to the hot soft flesh of her 
belly, inches below her navel. 

A soft moan exuded from her as she felt the moisture of his lips on her 
belly, as he dragged his tongue along the silken line of soft white down 
that extended from her navel to blossom suddenly into the flowering blonde 
patch of hair over her fragrant young cuntal lips. 

"Yes, Paul," he heard her whisper, already a note of delirium in her voice. 

He moved his head lower and felt her hand come to rest on the bare skin of 
his buttock, sending a tingling chill through him. Then he flicked his 
tongue out experimentally and felt her jerk and quiver slightly as it came 
into contact with the smooth moist flesh exposed between the narrow, thin 
slit of her vagina. He licked gently at the hardening little clitoris 
snuggled just above the tightly inviting little crevice, and he felt a 
sudden reinforcement of the sense of power with which he'd first approached 
her as he heard her low wail with her almost cracking voice, a sound of 
pleading and surrender he knew he would amplify many fold before he finished 
with her. 

He took hold of the two outer folds of her vaginal flesh with his thumbs and 
spread the ragged moist edges of the moistly pulsating slit farther apart, 
pausing for an instant to gaze into the forbidden pink crevice before he 
lowered his head again and with his tongue traced a path up and down the 
full length of it. Hearing her breathing increase, feeling her hips begin to 
twitch spasmodically, he warmed to the task, thrusting his tongue in deeper, 
pulling her lips wider apart with his thumbs, his fingers tantalizing the 
soft erogenous zones on the tender inner flesh of her thighs. His sense of 
power grew with each of her soft pleading moans and he found himself 
consciously teasing her, holding her cunt apart with just the tip of his 
tongue inserted in its gasping entrance, waiting poised with it as she 
squirmed and pleaded, holding himself back until the last instant, then 
flicking it in again and sending a violent, ecstatic shudder through her 
body. 

Almost as an afterthought to the act as he performed it, he mused that he'd 
never even licked his own wife's pussy, just as she'd never sucked him. He'd 
tried. He'd pushed her head down one night a very long time ago, but had 
yielded to her refusal when he felt her body recoil in revulsion. On more 
than one other time he'd kissed down the lovely warm flesh of his wife's 
belly, to the hot sweet skin of her thighs, but always she'd tugged him 
upward or voiced a vocal protest that had quelled his desire to pay her this 
homage, to show her the joy it could afford. But now, as he felt his son's 
young voluptuously built girlfriend squirm beneath him, heard the soft moans 
and cries that issued wildly from her lips, he could hardly imagine how he 
could have let his wife go through her life without experiencing this, 
without knowing the joy of yielding up all of one's body without reservation 
for the pleasure of their mate or partner. 

The groans and twisting increased until he pressed his head forward and 
thrust his tongue out lizard-like, sinking it deep in the wet opening of her 
pussy. There was a weird, soulful cry from her lips and then a slow, set 
grinding of her loins up against his face. Her hand slid between his 
buttocks, softly caressing his scrotum, and then he felt her begin to tug 
his own lower half up toward the head of the bed. Suddenly understanding, he 
climbed astraddle her, never lifting his face from her wet, gyrating crotch, 
he held himself poised in a crouch over her until he felt her fingers caress 
the sensitive, bursting head of his penis, and guide it to her lips as he 
lowered his body on her face. He gulped, making a loud slurpy sound in her 
pussy as he felt his cock slide between her lips and shoved it quickly 
almost to the back of her throat, nailing her head down on the bed with it 
and rewarding her for that humiliation with an even deeper hungrier flick of 
his tongue in her wet, coppery-tasting young pussy. 

"Oh yes," she moaned, almost unintelligibly around the hot fleshy shaft that 
filled her mouth and stretched her lips wide. Beneath his loins she began to 
bounce her head up and down in time with the lunging motion of her loins 
upon his own tongue. He braced himself on his elbows, slid his hands down 
beneath her thighs at the clefts of the smooth rounded globes of her 
buttocks and pulled her crotch up tighter into his face. He could feel tiny 
dewdrops of moisture forming against his cheeks on the edges of the soft 
blonde hair that surrounded his lips. He nipped gently with his teeth into 
the soft fleshy folds surrounding the excitedly widening hole and reveled in 
the muffled squeal it brought from her. His tongue slavered on and on in the 
moistness of her loins, increasing little by little in speed and depth until 
he brought her whole body into absolute subjugation to the whims of his 
flicking tongue. And as he felt the tension building in her, felt her body 
yielding to the rushing demands of her desire, he intensified even more the 
vicious rape of her mouth until he was thrusting his cock in and out with a 
heavy jolting impact. 

Then the sounds that issued from her throat and the sucking of her mouth and 
caress on his cock changed suddenly. The lunging of her hips became more 
intense and he felt her legs rise up around his neck and squeeze his face as 
if to tug his head deeper into her loins. Her hot soft thighs squeezed his 
ears like muffs and her hips began to jerk in a wanton circular motion as 
the fluttering waves of her rush toward climax engulfed her. 

Then she squirmed her face away from his own loins, for a moment avoiding 
the invasion of his cock in her mouth, and cried in a soft, distant sounding 
and delirious voice: "Let's cum together! Like this." 

"Yes," he almost whispered into her thrashing loins. "Let's cum together 
like this." 

For the first time anyway. He knew he wouldn't have any trouble going again 
when they finished, maybe even several times the way he felt today. 

* * * 

Katherine knew she'd had it when she said that. It wasn't so much admitting 
it to them as admitting it to herself that was important. She'd been 
thinking about her son Tom when she had exploded into her first orgasm with 
Bill yesterday. And in her delirium then, as she licked the cum and her own 
vaginal lubricants issued in the act of adultery from his enormous, obscene 
cock, it had been with more than a mother's devotion that she'd thought 
about her son. And that was her real sin. This physical degradation and the 
lewd acts of the flesh she performed now were paled in the face of that sin 
of the mind, of that evil thought, that forbidden desire that though it 
could never be fulfilled was far more terrible than any of the hideous 
things she could do with her body for these people. 

The realization crept over her, and with it a marvelous sense of freedom: so 
she no longer had to fight this. She could yield up almost joyously to 
whatever they had in store for her here. Because this was nothing compared 
to what was in her mind. 

"You hear that, Jack?" Bill cried triumphantly. "She wants to take us all 
three on." 

Mabel made an only half-felt cry of protest. Clyde, who still held her arms 
pinioned to the rug above her naked body, leaned over and kissed her, 
bottom-side-upwards, on the mouth. She opened her lips willingly, breathing 
in his strong, beer-flavored breath, letting his tongue snake greedily 
between her teeth. Again she shuddered as Bill's hand returned to her loins, 
teasingly spreading her slick vaginal lips, his body lowering between her 
thighs, his rigid cock teasing her soft, ready flesh. 

Clyde lifted his face, looking hungrily into her half closed eyes. He wet 
his lips and swallowed hard. "Bill? I don't know if I can wait. How about I 
fuck her in the mouth while you're takin' care of her cunt?" 

Bill paused, his cock poised before the twitching lips of her vagina. "How 
about that, babe? Both of us at once, all right?" 

She said nothing, merely squirmed her body anxiously, thrashing her head 
from side to side in her longing, her hair whipping over her naked pinioned 
arms. 

"Turn her loose," said Bill. 

"Hey," Jack called from the couch. "Save a place for me, boys." 

"Not until you finish here," Mabel squealed. 

"Turn over," Bill said, withdrawing to a kneeling position between her 
thighs. 

Clyde turned loose of her arms and instinctively she drew them down the 
length of her body, across the yearning flesh of her breasts, down her warm 
belly, brushing them both through the thick dampened tangle of pubic hair 
and shoving them between her thighs. 

"Turn over," he told her again. 

A sob of mingled pleasure and fear escaping her, she rolled onto her belly. 
Before her face, Clyde began to unbuckle his trousers. 

"Up on your knees and stick that gorgeous curved ass of yours up in the 
air," Bill commanded behind her. 

Abandoning herself completely as the desire consumed her body, she got to 
her knees, pushing her hips up invitingly and spreading her thighs wide 
behind. She gasped as she saw Clyde's long thin cock, already throbbing 
hard, pop into freedom in front of her face. Looking back beneath her arm, 
past her lovely hanging breasts, she watched Bill kneel behind her 
defenselessly exposed buttock cheeks. His cock looked somehow even larger 
and broader and more menacing than it had yesterday, and confused with her 
maddening craving, she found a chill of fear, fear that it would be too big, 
that in this humiliating, slave-like position it would go in her too easily 
and too deeply, that it would tear her apart. 

Then she shivered as she felt it touch the naked tingling flesh of her 
buttocks. He bent downward, guiding it beneath her tiny puckered anus into 
the curls of her pubic hair, shoving just the tip of it into the slippery 
outer folds of the flesh of her cunt. His hands seized her flaring pelvic 
bones, pulling her backwards as the hard rubbery head shoved against the 
tight, elastic-like resistance. Then the resistance began to give way as 
inch by inch it wormed its way up between the slippery velvety walls of her 
cunt. 

In front of her the one named Clyde pushed his own hardened length downward 
toward her mouth. A soft whimper escaped her and she rounded her 
lipstick-rimmed lips, flicked her tongue out cautiously to caress just the 
purple tip of it. Then she felt his hands seize her hair, pulling her face 
forward and thrusting it deeper into her mouth even as Bill behind her 
pulled backward on her loins to skewer her to the hilt on his heavily 
palpitating shaft. 

"Aaaagh!" she cried, her thin, tensile-like lips stretching wide around 
Clyde's invading member, allowing him to thrust it farther into the warm 
saliva of her mouth, almost to the back of her throat. 

Bill lunged forward ruthlessly, his loins smacking loudly back into her 
buttocks, and Clyde began a slow undulation of his own hips, the long cock 
sliding in and out of her mouth, one of his hands holding her hair to guide 
the movement of her head, the other crawling over her naked body, down 
beneath her arm to grasp one of her dangling breasts and tease and pinch at 
the already rigid nipple. 

Bill began to rhythmically fuck up into her lewdly upraised vagina, filling 
her belly full with his giant cock, shifting about to alter the angle and 
strike new and even more sensitive areas deep inside her. His hands roved 
backward to her nakedly writhing buttocks, squeezing the soft vibrant flesh 
brutally, parting them so he could look down and watch clearly the repeated 
entry and retreat of his cock in her tightly clasping little pussy, and just 
above the place where it sawed into her, inspect the forbidden brown little 
hole of her rectal lips. 

Katherine forgot the humiliation and degradation of being sandwiched between 
and fucked so brutally at the same time by these two crude men. It no longer 
mattered that she was allowing one of them to fuck her from behind in the 
same fashion she'd watched the dog fuck the woman on the screen moments ago 
or that the other one was using her mouth as a receptacle for his 
sperm-bloated cock, which only two or was it three now days ago had so 
repulsed and exhilarated her when she'd seen her own son doing it to his 
teenage girlfriend. Nothing mattered but the satiation of the raging desire 
that had driven her to her knees in total subjugation. Only a few minutes 
ago, as she'd lain pinioned on her back on the floor, her vagina twitching 
in the spasms of unfulfilled craving, it had seemed in her delirium that 
only one more touch, one more flick of his tongue into the gasping depths, 
would have been all she needed. Instead the desire was not appeased, but 
raged even more wildly, demanding more and more. 

She began sucking the cock in her mouth in earnest now, running her tongue 
wetly around and around the slippery lubricated head of it and flicking the 
tip teasingly into the tiny open slit of the moist gland until she could 
feel it throbbing as though it had a life of its own and would erupt at any 
moment into a great gushing fountain of obscenely flowing male semen. He 
head bobbed up and down slavishly over the thick shaft of flesh, sucking 
more desperately, feverishly, as if somehow this cock that filled her mouth 
functioned in tune with the larger, wider one that fucked rhythmically back 
into her vagina, as if she thought that somehow the ministrations of her 
lips and tongue on this one could prompt the other to the feat that would 
satiate her insane longing. 

She felt Bill twisting about behind her, his fingers still kneading the 
sensitive flesh of her upturned buttocks, one of them flicking down to her 
vaginal lips to spread the moisture up over her anus. He pulled his cock 
almost out of her, causing her hips to quiver in desperation, then thrust it 
in even more viciously, the impact jolting her helpless body and causing her 
to do something with her mouth that made Clyde grunt in pain, then shove her 
penis even harder into her mouth, prodding all the way back toward her 
tonsils so she thought for a moment she would gag. 

Suddenly she felt the tip of Bill's finger, slick with the vaginal juices 
he'd spread to her anus, circle teasingly around the tightly clenched little 
nether ring guarding the entrance to her rectum, then with an abrupt thrust 
pop it into the first joint in her. 

She gave out with a sharp cry, shaking her head and causing Clyde to squirm 
away from her reflexively. 

"Oh, God, it hurts," she mumbled around the heavily bloated cock filling her 
mouth. 

Then, with a long neat thrust, Bill, behind her, shoved his cock back into 
her hotly clasping cunt to the hilt, skewering her like an insect on the 
long brutal shaft. She grunted in pain and joy, sobbing, tears filling her 
eyes. Clyde pushed his cock back between her lips and again sank it almost 
to her throat. 

She moaned and gurgled, her buttocks retreating as Bill's finger rotated 
around inside painfully, then inched slowly deeper into her tight rubbery 
rectum. Grunts of protest escaped from her tight stretched lips as he 
continued the digging and probing that for a moment completely obliterated 
the sensation of his cock in her vagina. She caught her breath, wriggling 
again away from the pain. Then miraculously it began to subside and again 
she was aware of the sharp, sensuous feel of the cock that now fucked 
rapidly in and out of her open pussy. In humble gratitude, she intensified 
the licking and sucking of her mouth and tongue on Clyde's hugely swelling 
maleness, and a suddenly altered twitching of his hips warned her that soon 
he would be losing control. 

He groaned above her flaying head and she sucked more hungrily, her mouth 
salivating as it never had before as she felt Bill fuck viciously in and out 
of her cunt, as his finger pulled at the tight ring of her anus, playing at 
will in the white fleshy confines of the wet, upturned crevice. 

Clyde's cock began a sudden jerking motion and spewed with a vengeance the 
hot jets of his cum deep into her throat. She groaned and continued her 
sucking desperately as she felt her own orgasm begin to come within reach, a 
rushing like a great wind that blew through her whole body and bent her like 
a feeble shaft of grass. 

Her Adam's apple bobbed in rapid rhythm as she felt the spurts hit her 
throat, and swallowed the gushing sperm that kept spurting hotly into the 
warm flooding moistness of her mouth. She clasped her lips in a tight 
elastic ring around it just below the head and held desperately to the 
twitching instrument, swirling her tongue around and around the rhythmically 
jerking tip. She wanted to suck it dry, and his groans of pleasure incited 
her to greater effort. The shooting continued, for an eternity it seemed, 
and when that had stopped and she felt the cock going flaccid in her mouth, 
she began to lick off the cum and saliva that covered it, beginning at the 
base and flicking her tongue into the tiny tufts of pubic hair, then moving 
hungrily back up the shaft to lick it there. 

Behind her, Bill was still fucking with wicked abandon into her vagina and 
asshole, racking her body and causing it to contort from the pain of his 
loins smacking her buttocks. She heard strained animal grunts issuing from 
his throat and, knowing he was also going to cum, she clasped her vaginal 
muscles as tight as she could around his rapidly skewering rod, twisting and 
squirming her buttocks to increase her own sensations. She had to cum with 
him. She had to! There was no telling what degradation they would subject 
her to before giving her the satisfaction she had to have if she wasn't able 
to attain it this time. 

"Don't stop fucking me," she wailed through sperm covered lips, letting 
Clyde's limp, cum-drained penis drop from her mouth. "Oh God, don't stop 
yet!" 

She rocked backwards, skewering her anus even more deeply on Bill's thumb, 
shivering as she felt the fluttering tingling sensations course salaciously 
through her body. Then Bill suddenly groaned behind her and began a series 
of sharp staccato lunges that racked her whole slavishly kneeling form and 
ground even farther into her already stretched and filled cunt. She heard 
the sudden change in his breathing, felt the shaft seem to grow even larger 
and wider. For an instant he was still and she squirmed and wriggled in mad 
desperation. Then a blurring wave passed through her. She screamed in 
ecstasy as she felt the release burst over her and simultaneously sensed the 
final throbbing palpitations of his cock seconds before his own hotly 
jetting seminal fluids hosed thickly up into her hungrily welcoming belly. 

Time stopped. There was a gap, from which she remembered nothing: only a 
dream-like recollection of screams and sighs, blurred drifting indefinable 
visions, the sharp burning sensation of pleasure so intense it hurt. Then 
she was laying face down on the rug, her hair spilled down over her head to 
hide her eyes, her hips still quivering lewdly and shamelessly into the air, 
and slowly Bill withdrew. 

"Goddamn that was something!" Clyde said. 

"Sure was." 

She heard footsteps across the room and looking up she saw Jack, his socks 
and shirt on but his pants off, approaching her. She shook her head weakly 
and rolled onto her side. 

"Oh God, no more, please! I've had enough!" 

"The hell you say," said Jack, dropping to his knees beside her. 

"I think I'm probably good for another round too," Clyde said 
contemplatively. 

Another whimper of protest escaped her. 

"What about you, Bill?" one of the men said. 

"Just let me catch my breath." 

"I'll start another movie," Mabel said. 

"All right," grunted Jack. "Just don't break the goddamn thing." 

"Go to hell." 

Watery eyed, Katherine looked up at the three men, who now sat in a triangle 
around her prone, naked and quivering body. Resigned, she moistened her 
lips, faintly nodding her head in agreement. 

"Just let me catch my breath too." 

"Hell, you'll catch it soon enough," said Jack, reaching down to touch and 
explore her voluptuous, exposed breast. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the picture flash onto the screen, the 
same reel with the young adolescent boy in it that Jack had begun by mistake 
before they watched the one with the dog. 

"Leave that one, Mabel," she said. "Please. I want to watch that one while 
... " 

Jack eyed her curiously for a moment, then laughed softly. "All right then. 
Let's move up to the couch so you can straddle me and see the goddamn kid 
good while you get fucked. Mabel, you can set in the easy chair and run the 
projector from there." 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

The idea must have come to her mind as she watched the film of the young boy 
and the dancing, hippie girl. Though she hadn't admitted at the time that it 
was anything more than a fantasy. But unconsciously she'd compared what she 
watched on the screen, the young innocent boy fucking the long-haired girl, 
with what was being done to her: namely Jack eating her pussy while Bill 
fucked her in the mouth and Clyde played with her tits and fingered her in 
the asshole. And fuck was the only word for it. Only the bluntest, dirtiest 
words suited to describe that scene. Yet near the end, she'd been more aware 
of the film than of what was happening to her, the mingled sensations of 
pain and pleasure and the degradation and humiliation and outrageous lust 
that racked her surrendered, naked body. And even then, somewhere in the 
back of her mind had hovered the thought: If I am going to do these horrible 
things and now it doesn't seem as though I can help myself why don't I at 
least do it with someone beautiful and attractive and why don't I at least 
make it worthwhile? 

After she'd left Jack's apartment and gone sheepishly home to face her 
husband and son and that beautiful intruder, her son's girlfriend, in her 
house on whom she still placed the blame for all that had happened since her 
arrival, the thought lingered faintly with her. Even once at night she awoke 
from a dream about the boy in the film. And at breakfast this morning the 
presence of her virile young son, Tom, had served to remind her of it again 
though still only as a fantasy. 

Paul had to go to the office and Lys and Tom wanted to get out in the 
country for the afternoon. They invited her to join them, but she was unable 
to believe they could really want her along. She had a pretty good idea what 
they'd probably prefer to spend an afternoon in the country doing. That, 
plus the fact that she was still unable to hold a civil manner in Lys's 
presence, and the fact that she already had a vague inkling of her own 
intentions, prompted her to make her excuses and refuse. 

But even then, almost two hours passed before she finally had taken the car 
and driven with hardly a sideward glance through town and gotten on the 
Albuquerque highway. It was a brisk, pleasant day, sunny but with tones of 
gray, early signs of autumn everywhere. Katherine selected a high collared 
knit sweater she'd picked up on sale last spring and had never worn, and a 
tightly sheathed blue midi skirt and a pair of rich, maroon stockings. The 
combination gave her a youthful look. From behind, she thought, she could 
easily have been taken as a college girl. From the facial view she looked 
only slightly more mature. She wore almost no make-up; it gave her a fresh, 
ironically almost innocent look. For some inexplicable reason, she felt very 
good today. The recollections of the horrible things she'd done yesterday 
for the most part eluded her. Perhaps it was amental block. 

But even when she reached the last small town between her home and 
Albuquerque, Katherine was only vaguely aware of her purpose for coming. She 
acted with the attitude that she was only out for an afternoon drive to 
relax a little bit. It was with a seeming blind, unconscious instinct that 
she maneuvered the automobile through the small, Spanish-styled town, along 
the dirt road that led past the deserted high school (school wouldn't 
commence for about another week) and parked along side the athletic field. 

It was then that she saw him and the shattering, horrible idea came to mind! 

He was blonde-headed, but cleaner-cut than Tom. He was also a bit taller and 
even more sinewy, actually built very much like Paul had been when they 
first started dating. When Katherine first parked the car and started 
watching him, he was wearing a pair of track shorts, tennis shoes, and a 
gray warm-up sweater, and he was on the far turn of the track that 
surrounded the football field, jogging easily with long smooth strides. Her 
first impulse was to forget her silly idea and start the car and drive back 
before she made a total fool out of herself, but instead she cut the motor 
and sat almost breathless, staring at the swift almost musical movements of 
the running figure. 

He rounded the entire track one more time, seemingly with no notice of 
Katherine, then stopped at the starting marker before the grandstands on the 
far side of the field. For several minutes he just paced about slowly, 
heaving to catch his breath, his hands on his hips. Now he did see her, or 
at least saw her car, but after a short glance he seemed to take no notice 
of her. But Katherine watched him intently, her eyes taking in his every 
gesture as he began to limber up, stretching his long, sinewy and deeply 
tanned thighs. Then, when he peeled the warm-up over his head to reveal his 
lean, hard chest, she caught her breath reflexively. Subtly came and passed 
the vision of the three men who had fucked her until she was half-conscious 
yesterday: drunken, out of shape, sweaty and dirty and hairy. How genuinely 
beautiful this young man's figure was in comparison! 

As if spellbound or entranced, Katherine removed the keys from the ignition 
and got out of the car. Hesitantly as though the ground beneath her feet 
were a layer of egg shells, she walked toward the bleachers on this side of 
the field and the ribbon of cinder track that lay beyond them. Even then she 
could feel her heart pounding and hear her breath escaping in strained, 
hoarse gasps. Gradually, as she drew closer to the near side of the field, 
her pace hastened. She threw off the questions that bombarded her mind: why 
am I here? what do I think I'm going to do? How do I begin or what do I even 
say to him? 

Just before the straight-away of cinder on this side of the field she 
encountered a tightly stretched cable barrier. She paused for a moment, 
wondering whether to try to get over it or to bend down and crawl under. She 
decided to go over, then wondered when she tried it if she hadn't made a 
mistake. She straddled the cable and found she could only put one leg to the 
ground in that position. Her skirt was hiked far up her thighs and the cable 
tore the crotch of her panty hose. For an instant she teetered and thought 
she was going to fall, and that was when he saw her. Flushing with 
embarrassment, she made a supreme effort and managed to extract herself from 
the absurd position. Then, trying to regain her composure, she traversed the 
ten yards of black cinder and started across the football turf. 

He watched her curiously now. His eyes drifted down the length of her body 
and returned bashfully to her face. As she drew somewhat closer he looked 
away entirely, which allowed her the chance to feast her eyes unhesitatingly 
on his beautiful, deeply tanned young physique that was cloaked only in his 
thin white track shorts. She could see the outline of his jock strap, and 
there was a large, tell-tale bulge at the crotch that made her catch her 
breath. He certainly couldn't have an erection after the laps around that 
four hundred and forty yard track, and even soft his penis looked enormous. 

When she was but paces away from him he looked back at her, then moved to 
pick up his warm-up sweater. 

"No, don't!" Katherine gasped in a tone far too emphatic. 

He turned his eyes back to her strangely, holding the sweater ready to pull 
over his head, yet not quite doing so. 

"I mean: don't bother," she said weakly. "I mean, it doesn't upset me and 
... I just wanted to watch ... you run." 

He seemed to think this over, then with a shrug tossed the sweater back to 
the ground. Katherine stepped onto the cinders of that straight-away and 
started toward the bench at the foot of the grandstand. But she caught her 
shoe heel on the concrete railing that -lined the track and almost fell. The 
young man fairly sprang to her rescue, catching her shoulders and holding 
her with his strong lean hands until she could regain her balance. She 
almost sobbed as he released her and stepped away, again staring at her with 
a curiosity that made her feel very uncomfortable. They'd been so close for 
an instant that their bodies had almost touched, that she could smell the 
clean, yet strong aroma of the body sweat he'd worked up with his running. 
And now, for a moment after she'd found her balance, they still stood very 
near each other, Katherine trembling with the embarrassment and 
self-consciousness and the forbidden excitement that raged already beyond 
control in her loins. Then sheepishly she turned from him and walked, 
carefully, to the bench and sat down. When she looked back at him she saw he 
was still staring at her with the same curious eyes. She shifted 
uncomfortably and smoothed down her skirt, which had again been pulled 
indecently far up above her knees, and weakly smiled. 

"Hello. I'm ... Katherine." She'd had the strangest impulse to use a phony 
name, but somehow had seemed unable to think of one. It must have sounded as 
if she'd forgotten her own. "I ... I just had nothing particular to do and 
... my husband was a very good track man when ... we were first married. I 
just drifted by here and saw you and ... " 

Her voice faded. It all sounded so hopeless and ridiculous. And she thought 
he must surely sense her real motive in coming here, unconscious as it might 
have been. He must be laughing at her inwardly, ridiculing her. 

It seemed she'd almost expected that laughter, certain that at the next 
instant it would come bursting from his thin lips. But instead he totally 
surprised her by turning and bounding back onto the track and starting down 
the straight-away. Katherine watched him hungrily, glad for the chance to do 
it without him looking back at her. Now he was sprinting, and his speed was 
astonishing. He rounded the first turn, gliding as if each step was a long 
swift leap, every muscle on his nearly naked body tautly toned, working in 
smoothly moving cohesion. He covered the distance of the far straight-away 
with equal speed, rounded the last curve and came sprinting back toward the 
finish line. When he crossed it and came to a slow stop twenty yards down 
the track, he'd still been moving at a rapid pace. Now, panting so that his 
well defined chest heaved, he walked back toward her. 

God, she caught herself thinking. With wind like that he could probably fuck 
me forever. 

And the fact that he might be a little quick to shoot the first time would 
probably make little or no difference at all. A man in really good shape 
could probably go again and again, like Paul had wanted to when they were 
first married. But then, of course, she hadn't been able to appreciate it. 

"You're fast," she said, herself almost as breathless as he was. 

He shrugged. "I don't know. Not fast enough." 

For a moment they were both silent, looking at each other. She was unable to 
prevent her eyes drifting again down the length of his flawless young body, 
lingering for a disquietening instant at the enormous bulge in his shorts. 
And he was looking at her almost the same way, with the same mixture of 
appreciation and reticence. She thought he was shy and she took comfort in 
believing he was probably as frightened of her as she was of him. 

"What's your name?" she said finally, realizing the silent staring had gone 
far too long. 

"Tod." 

"Tod," she said softly. "A healthy ... athletic name." 

He shrugged again and Katherine bit her lip. She knew the thing that was in 
her mind was wrong, more wrong even than the other terrible acts she'd 
committed during the last several days. But she was obsessed with the 
fantasy that had been first triggered by the movie, that had lingered in her 
mind through the night and morning, that now seemed meant to be as she 
looked at this handsome, innocent and athletic looking creature. She had to 
have him! She had to at all cost, all embarrassment and humiliation. The 
urge engulfed her and she was like clay in its cruelly caressing hands. 

"How old are you, Tod?" 

"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen next spring. This is my senior year coming up." 

Katherine moistened her lips and managed a smile, but she thought it must 
look lecherous as a witch's. 

"Do you ... have a girlfriend." 

He blushed. She liked that. 

"Well, not a steady one." He looked away. "Girls make me nervous sometimes." 

Katherine studied his face, his averted eyes, intently for a moment. What 
she sensed thrilled her almost beyond imagination. He was a young virile 
virgin. He must be a virgin. That could be the only explanation for his not 
having sensed and responded to the sordid aspect of her presence and the way 
she'd looked at him. Again she wet her lips, the anticipation building 
inside her, shoving aside her reasoning and guilt, blinding her so she could 
see nothing but the lewdly beautiful vision of the fantasy turning real. 

"Maybe you just need to learn a little more about girls," she said in a 
trembling voice. 

He looked back at her sharply, his face blanching for a moment, his clear 
blue eyes filled with excitement and shock, his brows turned in a puzzled 
frown. 

"Do you understand what I mean?" 

"I don't know," he stumbled. 

Almost incredibly, Katherine felt a bizarre quality of courage creeping over 
her. The flutter of nervousness that remained seemed only anticipation of 
the act that she now knew was imminent beyond anything she tried to do about 
it. It was inevitable. Somehow, she was going through with what still seemed 
the impossible, and as she prepared to cross the line of no return, she did 
so almost without fear or anxiety. 

"What do you think I mean?" she said strongly. "Tell me what you think I 
mean." Now, as she gazed upon his body, she made no attempt to disguise her 
purpose. 

Tod shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He half turned away from her, then 
looked abruptly back. He wet his lips and swallowed hard. 

"What are you trying to make me say? I mean, maybe I understand and maybe 
I've misunderstood you completely. But it's hard to say ... " She smiled. 
"Did you ever think it might be just as hard for me to say?" 

"Awwww!" Again he half turned away, looked abruptly back. "I thought you 
might have been trying to suggest ... It sounds crazy! I mean it sounds 
crazy with me saying it!" 

Katherine's eyes dropped to the bulge in his shorts, grown appreciably 
bigger during this last exchange. She knew he was getting an erection. 

"I mean, you're a very beautiful lady," he blurted. "I mean it! And I just 
can't say ... " 

"You can't say that you'd like for me to teach you?" 

"Yes. I couldn't say that." 

"Have you ever had a woman, Tod?" 

She wanted to know that for sure. She didn't want it to be just speculation 
that triggered the even more intense excitement that drove her. But even 
before he answered she knew, from the mixed resentment and shame that crept 
into his eyes, that her previous presumption had been correct. 

"No," he said at last. 

"Would you like to have me now?" 

Was that her own voice saying that? she wondered. 

He gulped, his eyes rushing over the lush curves of her slender, lovely 
body. "Y-e-s." 

She stood up. "Do you know a place we can go?" 

"I know an old house that's empty. Out of town. Nobody ever goes there." 

"All right. Then well go." 

She walked past him and started back over the straight-away of the cinder 
track and onto the football field. 

Looking back, she saw him pick up his jersey and hasten to catch up to her. 

During the ten minute drive to the old vacant farm house they hardly spoke. 
Her desire causing her whole body to prickle, Katherine dreamed of the act 
that lay before her, an act she had instigated and would direct, mold as a 
sculpture to the exact shape and texture she desired. Until now she'd always 
been a mere object, almost a victim of circumstance. But this would be 
different. She was going into this with determination, with eyes wide open. 
She didn't even care any more about the consequences. 

Katherine parked in front of the old wood house and they went through the 
rickety front yard gate, up the shaky steps, and Tod reached through a 
broken pane in the front door glass to let them in. Inside it was a little 
dirty and the scattered furniture was falling apart, but in no way did it 
possess the sordid quality of the place where she'd gone with Bill or Jack's 
apartment where she'd spent yesterday afternoon in an assortment of 
lascivious postures. 

"The bedroom's back there," Tod stammered. "Some of the boys at school ... 
bring their dates here sometime." 

"But you never have?" Katherine said with a smile. 

"He gulped. "I have, but ... " 

"You're scared, aren't you?" 

"I ... I just don't see why a beautiful woman like you would want to ... go 
to all this trouble for a kid like me." 

She wanted to burst into laughter, but she contented herself with another 
smile. "It's not trouble, Tod. Trouble it is not. And I'm scared too, a 
little." 

"You are?" 

"Yes. Come on." 

She walked past him in the direction he'd indicated to the bedroom. It 
looked pretty much like the rest of the house. The bed frame itself was 
broken down and the mattress had been pulled to the floor beside it. There 
were a couple of cloud-shaped stains that attested to its use, but it looked 
clean enough other than that. 

Katherine resisted the urge to bend down and test its bounce with her hand 
she didn't want to look too professional, as much as she felt like a whore, 
and turned back to him. 

Again he swallowed, shifting nervously on his feet. "I'm afraid I don't even 
know where to begin," he said, his eyes descending, frightened and eager, to 
her still clothed body. 

"You could start by kissing me." 

Nervously he stepped to her and kissed her on the lips, at first cautiously 
but she opened her mouth, breathing hotly into his, and quickly enough 
prompted him to insert his tongue. Compared to her recent experiences, he 
seemed really good at it. 

"And you might touch my body," she gasped. "And caress and massage and feel 
it." 

Again there was an instant's hesitation on his part. Then his hands, which 
during the first kiss had hung astonishingly limp at his sides, moved 
suddenly to her body, roving forcefully over the smooth contours of her 
back, down the fine line of her spine, then both gradually beneath her arms 
to the sides of her heaving breasts. 

Katherine squirmed wantonly, fitting her vaginal mound to the gigantic bulge 
in his shorts so she could feel his hard young maleness prod teasingly at 
her loins through her skirt and panties. Her own hands moved up beneath his 
jersey, roving over the long, sinewy muscles of his athletic body. What a 
contrast this was, she thought, to the bodies she'd spent the last two days 
with: theirs flaccid and hairy, this smooth and hard and healthy, like Paul 
had been when they were first married and she was too blind to appreciate 
it, or like her own son, Tom, now. 

Suddenly, Tod's hands began to go mad. He tore her sweater up from her 
skirt, his fingers fumbling eagerly and clumsily with the cups of her bra, 
his breath coming in hoarse, strained gasps. In desperation, unable to free 
her large, swelling breasts from the restricting cups, he ripped them away. 
Katherine gasped from the sharp pain of the straps cutting into her back 
before it tore, then the pleasure sensation as his hands began to maul the 
breasts exposed beneath her sweater. It was with a genuine reluctance that, 
after a moment, she pushed his hands away. 

"Easy," she whispered, trying to catch her own breath. "We have plenty of 
time, let's don't get in a rush." 

He drew back from her, hanging his head almost sheepishly. "I'm sorry," he 
croaked. 

She laughed softly, gustily. "You don't have to say that. But look: just 
undress me, slowly. Enjoy yourself at it and let me enjoy it too." 

His eyes darted hungrily up and down the length of her body. He looked 
almost as if he were inclined to clap his hands with glee as he began. He 
moved toward her again with the bashfulness swept away by his raging desire. 
Yet when his hands touched her body this time it was gently, with trembling. 

Katherine extended her arms above her head and Tod took hold of the tail of 
her sweater and drew it slowly upward over her slender, flawlessly defined 
torso, gradually pulling it over the breasts highly arched by the position 
of her arms. Her nipples tingled with their exposure to the evening air and 
swelled to sharp hard points. He continued to draw the sweater upward until 
it had passed over her head, then dropped his hands again to the arched, 
globular mounds of her breasts, now caressing them softly, cupping them so 
that the palms of his hands caused a tantalizing friction on the sensitive 
pink tips. In his eyes, she saw the ravenous appreciation of their flawless 
beauty. 

"Kiss them, if you want to," she said through gritted teeth. 

He leaned forward, his hands sliding aside and beneath her arms as he 
touched his lips to one of the hard, perforated nipples. 

Katherine drew in a deep strained breath, her arms dropping to his head to 
pull it eagerly to her bosom. "Suck it," she moaned. "Take it into your 
mouth." 

He needed no further urging. Greedily he fastened his lips like a suction 
cup wide around the tingling breast, filling his mouth with it, his tongue 
flicking wildly over the tip and causing Katherine's whole body to writhe 
from the intense, blinding pleasure. After a few moments he moved his head 
to the other breast and repeated the performance, driving her desire to an 
even more urgent pitch. At last he drew his head back, again looking down at 
the flawlessly beautiful mounds, the nipples wet and glistening with the 
saliva from his own mouth. 

"Now my skirt." 

His hands moved down her spine, sending chills through her body. His fingers 
fumbled as clumsily with the zipper snap in back as they had with the bra 
cups, but this time he desisted from trying to rip it. At last he managed to 
get it loose and drew the zipper quickly down the crevice of her buttocks, 
pulling the skirt open and easing it off her flaring pelvis and ripe firmly 
curved hips as she wriggled sensuously. 

She stepped out of the skirt and brushed it aside with her foot, then kicked 
off her shoes. Now she wore only the panty hose. She slipped her own thumbs 
inside the elastic of these, catching her sheer panties in the process, and 
began to squirm out of them. Her eyes roved hungrily over Tod's youthful 
body, still concealed beneath the warm-up jersey and track shorts. She 
moistened her lips suggestively with her tongue, her eyes glistening as the 
nylon hose slipped off the black-haired mound of her pubis, nestled in the 
silken flesh of her slender thighs. She saw Tod's eyes bulge as they feasted 
upon the black triangle of the hair, the shadowy crack of her vagina only 
partially hidden by the silken curls. 

"Now your turn," she hissed. 

His face flushed again and for an instant he hesitated. Then resolutely he 
whipped the jersey off his head and tossed it aside. In another swift motion 
he pulled off the shorts and jock strap. 

Katherine gasped audibly as he exposed himself completely, her watery eyes 
descending eagerly to the huge long shaft that protruded up erectly from the 
thin patch of his own, almost blonde pubic hair. Then mutually they rushed 
forward, falling into each other's arms, their bodies pressing tightly 
together and writhing and twisting in distinct suggestion of the act to come 
even as they both remained on their feet. 

Katherine felt her breasts mashed mercilessly by the hard lean muscles of 
his chest, felt the hardness of his manhood prod threateningly at her 
crotch, slide angularly up her belly as though to mark the point to which it 
would reach inside her. His balls brushed at her budding clitoris, his hands 
roved madly over the yielded flesh of her body. At last, with an agonized 
whimper, she pulled away from him and dropped to her knees on the mattress. 
An instant later she was on her back and he was lying beside her, ready to 
roll on top her. 

Against all her own volition she stopped him. "Wait," she purred through her 
tortured breathing. "Make me ready." Inwardly she laughed. Never in her life 
had she been so ready for anything. "Kiss me again and run your hands over 
me." 

He needed scarce encouragement. Madly he kissed her on the lips, his hands 
kneading at her breasts, then moving wildly down the sensitive burning flesh 
of her belly, between her half-parted thighs, to brush deliciously over her 
glistening, hard clitoris. He moved his lips from her mouth, again covered 
one of her breasts, now sucking it ravenously so her whole body contorted 
with the wanton longing that engulfed her. 

Then his finger touched the slit of her vagina and her hips jerked suddenly 
as she felt the sharp, knifing pleasure. "Put it in," she moaned, already 
almost delirious. "Put it in!" 

He probed experimentally, parting the pink, juice-coated lips of her cunt 
with his middle finger, spreading the flooding moisture outwards into the 
softly lining curls of her pubic hair. Then in a swift motion, flicked the 
finger into the tight, slippery folds. Her body stiffened, jerking again. A 
wail that sounded as though she were in torment issued from her throat and 
he hesitated. 

"No," she cried. "You're not hurting me! Finger me deeper!" 

Reassured, he again shoved the finger, to the second knuckle this time, 
burying it deeply in the tight, warm crevice. Her hips retreated from the 
sudden probing, but as he began to move his finger slowly in and out of the 
liquidly squeezing warmth between her thighs, she thrust them back upward 
and began to undulate wantonly in response. 

His lips moved from her breasts, lower, tracing a trail of fire on her 
tingling, demanding flesh. She moaned and sobbed, her hands running wildly 
through his hair. At her navel he paused, his tongue flicking curiously into 
it. Then he raised his head, gazing toward the beckoning mantel of her pubic 
hair. 

For an instant the motions of his finger in her cunt ceased. Opening her 
eyes, which had been tightly closed, Katherine watched him. 

"What do you want to do, Tod?" 

"It sounds so crazy," he said through his strained breathing. 

"You want to ... kiss it? To lick me between my legs?" 

"It seems dirty, but I want to." 

"Nothing you really want to do with all your heart is dirty." 

Something in the back recesses of her mind called to her, again asking if 
that was her own voice she heard, if that was her who'd always considered 
everything that pertained to the flesh filthy and vile, saying that nothing 
was dirty. 

"Then I want to," he croaked. 

His head moved down her body toward her undulating loins. The finger slipped 
wetly out of her cunt, left her sending stabs of frustration throughout her 
being. She gave out with a tortured sob, but at the last moment as she felt 
his lips brush into the sensitive almost ticklish hair of her cunt, she 
caught his head and stopped him, tugging him desperately upwards. 

"Save that for later, please," she moaned. "After you've fucked me the first 
time." 

He looked at her with a curious disbelief, as if he found that prospect 
somewhat appalling. Then he seemed to forget any anxieties he might have 
about that and concentrate completely on the invitation for the present. He 
slid suddenly back up her body, lowering himself between her wide parted 
thighs. Katherine slipped her hands between them and explored his taut lower 
abdomen until her fingers found the hard pulsating object of her search. 

A moan of dread and fear escaped her as she felt the true size of his cock 
for the first time. She thought it must have grown more than another inch in 
length since he'd first removed his shorts and jock strap, and it had 
increased in diameter as well. For a nervous fluttering instant she wondered 
if she would be able to take it, wondered if it would not rip her tender 
body apart at the seams, so to speak. Then her hesitation retreated. She had 
to have it. The desire that welled in her smothered the fear. No matter how 
much it hurt and stretched her succulent, tight cunt she had to have it in 
her. Nothing short of being fucked crazy by his virile young cock would 
satiate her now, and she knew it. 

With a sob of resignation and anticipation, Katherine guided the smooth 
rubbery head and the long hot shaft toward her hungrily pleading cuntal 
lips. Above her, the boy grunted, his lean sinewy body trembling as though 
with last agony of growth. 

"Easy," she whispered, gritting her teeth in readiness as she parted the 
soft resilient strands of her pussy hair with the tip and slipped the head 
of his penis between the slick fleshy folds of her cunt. 

A knife-like stabbing shot through her body and she cried out, again causing 
Tod to tense and hesitate. For a moment she thought he was going to pull 
completely out of her, and she grabbed his hips and held his body firmly to 
her own. Though relief from the pain of the intrusion might have been 
welcome, her bleary mind sensed that the frustration of the loss would be 
even more terrible. 

"Just take it easy," she gasped again. "Fuck it up into me easy and slow, 
all the way down to your balls." 

Her body stiffened and she gave out with another abandoned cry as Tod thrust 
again, gently but firmly. She felt another sharp stab of pain, then a faint 
easing as the fluids poured forth, lubricating the tight inner walls and 
allowing the excitedly hardened shaft to worm its way slowly inward, inward 
until at least a heaving sigh escaped her and her body relaxed, sinking down 
on the mattress, and the pain began to fade. 

"God Almighty," he moaned in her ear, sagging on her and flexing his 
enormous young penis so that a tremor went through the body prone beneath 
him. "It feels so warm and wet around it I don't know if I can even move." 

"Then don't for a minute," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Get used to 
it." 

They both lay still for what must have been a full sixty seconds, the only 
sound their harsh heavy breathing. Then together they began to move, at 
first subtle, almost imperceptible gestures of their bodies, slight 
shiftings of their hips, Tod's flexing of the virile young penis within her. 
Gradually the movements become more overt. Katherine punctuated the shifting 
sounds of their bodies with soft, distant-sounding moans of ecstasy. Tod 
braced himself on his arms, panting loudly as a winded dog, and began to 
lunge back and forth, piercing her with new stabs of indistinguishable pain 
and pleasure. 

Gradually he increased the rhythm of his thrusts, lengthening the strokes 
until he was driving all the way up into the bottom depths of her cunt, 
racking her body until she cried out deliriously and entwined her leg tight 
about him. Then far too soon for Katherine, an abrupt alteration in his 
movements signaled her he was going to cum. 

"No, wait!" she screamed in desperation, her legs kicking wildly in the air, 
her hands clawing at his back. 

He froze upon her, his body trembling. "I don't think I can hold it," he 
gasped. "I just can't!" 

Katherine's mind raced madly. She'd half expected this would be the case. A 
boy who never had a woman couldn't be expected to possess the control 
demanded of a man, but she'd presumed he'd be eager and excited enough to 
fuck more than once. But what if he couldn't? What if the premature 
ejaculation and her eager demands that followed embarrassed him to the 
extent that he couldn't manage another erection immediately? She knew she 
couldn't stand that with her own maddening desire at the furious pitch she'd 
reached. But she thought there was one fool proof method of taking his first 
jets of semen into her and still insuring that his magnificent young cock 
would be hard for the second. Katherine was almost certain the act of 
cumming in another woman's mouth would be for this naive adolescent boy far 
more exciting than satiating. With a little luck he'd be hotter when he 
finished than he had been when he started. 

"Get off," she gasped, shoving him off. 

Reluctantly he withdrew. With a soft cry of frustration, Katherine urged him 
over onto his back. She turned on her side toward him, reaching out with her 
hand and softly stroking his cock, entwining her fingers around it and 
beginning to move the tightly stretched skin slowly up and down. But the 
gnawing in her own loins was almost more than she could bear. She knew she 
had to have something to appease her own craving while she was waiting. 
Suddenly she shifted about on the bed, kneeling to extend her firm buttocks 
toward him almost the same position as when she'd sucked Bill and gotten her 
first orgasm. 

"Put your finger in my pussy," she moaned. "Finger fuck me while I suck 
you." 

With an eager groan the young teenager complied. Katherine sighed at the 
mild relief and dropped her face toward his hardness, suddenly flicking her 
tongue forward, the tip boring teasingly into the wetness of the tiny gland 
on the end. He sucked in his breath from the sudden contact. Another groan 
issued from his lips. Katherine brought her mouth down all the way and 
enclosed the whole of the sensitive head in the warm, moist pressure. Her 
lips tightened like an elastic band around it just below the head, trapping 
it completely inside the warm wet cavern of her mouth. 

"Jesus," he groaned, shoving his finger deeper into the wet, tormented walls 
of her cunt. 

She twitched her hips wildly, looking down her nose at the hard, glistening 
shaft, still wet from the juices of her own cunt, watched it inch slowly and 
deeply into her tightly locked mouth. She massaged the soft resilient skin 
of his testicles gently with one hand and stroked the base of his cock 
between the thumb and forefinger of the other as she began to suck 
rhythmically up and down. 

In a matter of moments Katherine felt the first throbbing reaction of coming 
orgasm and began to suck harder, the tips of her teeth digging gently into 
the taut, resisting flesh, leaving thin white trails where they had scraped 
the blood from beneath the surface of the skin. She shifted position 
slightly, kneeling lower into his crotch and taking in as much of the giant 
shaft as her mouth would hold. She slid a hand under his buttocks and cupped 
them in her palms, and she felt him intensify the probings of his finger in 
her cunt. Her tongue swiped round and round the growing gland furiously 
until she knew it was reaching the bursting point. Obsessed, she continued 
the maddening sucking. 

He arched his back off the bed, pushing even deeper into her mouth. 
Greedily, her lips clung to the thrusting cock. He groaned over and over and 
over again as if in complete incomprehension of the sensations she evoked 
with the gentle manipulations of her lips and tongue. Suddenly she heard him 
gasp. The moment was here and a low, guttural sound started from somewhere 
deep in his chest as the hot sticky young sperm began its surge from the 
sanctity of his balls and began spewing in hot thin streams up into her 
ravenously sucking mouth. Her cheeks expanded and hollowed fish-like as she 
greedily swallowed the warm flooding gushes of his fresh tasting adolescent 
virility. She went on with the wild sucking even as he'd emptied of the hot 
white sperm. Sporadically she coughed and gurgled, swallowing it to regain 
her breath. Slowly his cock deflated in her mouth, but then she continued 
licking until it was dry. 

At last she raised her head, rocking back on her hips until she was in a 
sitting position beside him, her parted buttocks resting on his hand. With 
satisfaction she watched the young cock stir and begin to grow again. 

But even after it had become erect, standing up like a tall palm out of his 
light colored pubic hair, it didn't seem to have the monstrous proportions 
it had assumed before. And she wanted all of it at its best, every inch of 
its incredible length and diameter. She wanted the tearing pain of it as 
much as she wanted the pleasure. 

Slowly, Katherine settled onto her own back. She could wait if she had 
something to occupy her in the meantime. She looked at Tod through her 
watery, narrowed eyes. 

"Now it's your turn to lick me, darling." Katherine spread her thighs wide, 
arching her hips and undulating them in lewd erotic invitation as, 
wide-eyed, Tod lowered his face toward her loins. He kissed her lightly at 
the crest of her pubic mound, then without further delay sank his lips onto 
her tingling bud of a clitoris, sucking it up between his teeth gently, 
sending ripples of longing to course through her already desire crazed body. 

"Move down," she gasped. "Kneel between my legs so you can get to it." 

He shifted his body to comply and Katherine parted her thighs even wider. 
The first touch of his tongue on her dripping nether lips was like the lash 
of a whip that stung her to a sudden greater pitch of alertness. She cried 
out deliriously, her hands brushing down over the flesh of her own breasts 
and stomach, grasping his head to hold him to her gyrating loins. His tongue 
flicked cautiously along the juicy slit, then suddenly probed deep into the 
tight warm hole. She cried again, her hips jerking furiously. She lifted her 
thighs and squeezed them tight around his ears as if she wanted to swallow 
his whole head into her burning depths. She felt his hands slide beneath her 
hips, his fingers digging into the vibrant flesh of her buttocks, pulling 
her loins even more fully against his face. 

"Put your finger in my asshole," she wailed desperately, instinct commanding 
her voice. 

At this he also momentarily hesitated, but her continued delirious cries 
overcame his natural reticence. Suddenly and with no preparation he shoved 
the middle finger of one of his hands swiftly to the second joint into the 
tight puckered hole of her anus. 

"Aaaagh!" she wailed, her hips contorting from the violent, unexpected 
agony. 

But in his own renewed lust Tod was past considerations of mercy. 
Relentlessly he shoved the finger onward, deeper until she felt his knuckle 
mash the cushion of flesh that was the crack between her churning buttocks. 
In a delayed reflex, she felt her tight rectal walls give way or lubricate, 
she didn't know which. The pain subsided slightly and mingled with the 
pleasure of his tongue ravishing her vagina. 

Then she felt his penis brush lightly against her leg and she knew it had 
resumed its full proportion. With a delirious wail she put her hands beneath 
his arms, jerking him upward. With reluctance he yielded to the pressure. 
With a last maddening flick his tongue slipped from her spasming pussy, 
flicked her swollen clitoris, and was gone. Twitching wildly, she tugged him 
onto her, seizing his hips and guiding him too rapidly down between her 
thighs, jerking her own hips up in abandon and without course. She felt the 
giant member just brush the lips of her vagina, then slide downward. Too 
late, she realized what was happening as the stabbing, unbearable pain 
caused a shudder to rack her whole body, tears to flood her eyes, an 
ear-piercing scream to burst in an instant full blown from her lips. 

Kicking frantically, she shoved up on his pelvis, at the same time 
retreating her own hips down into the softness of the mattress. "Wrong 
hole," she managed to gasp. Her anus had not had time to contract after the 
sudden removal of his finger and his badly-aimed cock, brushing over the 
slick lips of her vagina, had picked up enough of the lubricating moisture 
to allow it to penetrate almost half way into the depths of her tight, 
sensitive rectum. It had been too sudden and the pain had seemed more than 
she could bear. But oddly, as the youth hastily withdrew, the rubbery walls 
had seemed to cling tightly, as if unwilling to relinquish the unwelcome 
treasure that had penetrated them, and as Katherine felt the pain disappear, 
she thought she had almost strangely missed it. 

But then, as the young seventeen year old thrust again and she felt the 
smooth rubbery head of his cock slide between her vaginal lips, then slip 
smoothly along the straight slippery sheath of her cunt, she forgot that. 
She screamed again in wild abandon, but this time from the sheer pleasure of 
the rushing she felt begin immediately deep inside her. She threw her arms 
tightly about the boy, squirming her breasts against him, her hands clawing 
madly at his back. She sobbed and cried, the tears flooding in torrents from 
her eyes. She jerked upward violently several quick times in succession, the 
lips of her cunt working and sucking at the penis that filled them with 
uncanny dexterity, the velvety vaginal walls spasming madly. Her legs went 
suddenly limp, and with a fainting moan she dropped her arms from his back. 
Her heart pounded wildly as she felt the waves of passion flood her body, as 
she felt herself drifting in the strange, unbelievable whirlwind of the 
release. 

She was only half aware of the feeling of the young adolescent boy's fresh 
virile cum spewing hotly into her. Out of it, she closed her eyes and let 
her body relax and float as if on a distant, vaporous breeze. She was still 
except for the involuntary tremors that drifted like gentle wind gusts 
through her sweat-filmed nakedness. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

Katherine didn't feel the impact of what she'd done until it was too late 
when the deed had been committed and she was satiated, her crazed desire 
gone and her mind clear. It was like waking up the morning after you've made 
an ass out of yourself at a party and remembering it all with your clear, 
throbbing, aching head. At least the things she had done before, first with 
Bill and later with his friends Clyde and Jack, could in part be excused by 
drinking, or by circumstance, or even by the fact that she had been the 
object, the one on the receiving and accepting because she had very little 
choice; the humiliation and degradation that had been heaped upon her, and 
enjoying it because of the perverted creature, she must be down in her 
heart. But this was completely different. She'd been stone sober and the act 
had been premeditated. No circumstances had arisen to put her in a position 
where it was impossible to refuse. Of her own volition she'd gone looking 
for it, and what she had found had been innocent and pure and young. And 
herself always the directing force, she'd carried out the seduction with the 
lascivious and crazed lust of a jaded whore. As she made the seemingly 
endless drive back home, Katherine tried in every way she could imagine to 
rationalize her deed. But it was hopeless. The fact that she'd hardly been 
aware of its terrible profundity until after her maddening desire was 
satisfied and she was able to see with a clear head was no excuse and did 
nothing to ease her anguished conscience. And she couldn't help but wonder 
what Tod's mother who must feel all the love and protective instincts for 
him that she had always felt for Tom would think if she knew what her son 
had been subjected to this afternoon, not by a young nymphet who might not 
have ever been taught any better, but by a supposedly respectable married 
woman who was old enough to be his mother and who also until two days ago 
had always striven to live a pure, Christian life. As Katherine pulled into 
the drive and got out of the car and started up the walk to the house, she 
thought that as long as she lived she would never rectify or forgive herself 
for what had happened today. 

Katherine walked through the house without a word to the trio who were 
watching television in the den. She went straight to the bedroom, undressed 
and got into a housecoat, then went to bed. In a few moments Paul came in. 
"What's the matter, honey?" She turned away from him and stared at the wall. 
"I just feel a little sick." 

She heard him walk toward the bed, felt him sit down on the edge of it and 
put his hand on her shoulder on the outside of the covers. 

"Well ... do you want me to call the doctor or something?" 

"I went," she said without thinking, still not looking back at him. 

"And ... ?" 

"I went to Albuquerque. He said I just needed a good rest." 

"Katherine?" 

She sensed the suspicion in his voice. "Will you just leave me alone!" she 
snapped. "Just leave me and let me sleep." 

She pulled her knees up almost to her breasts, curling into a defensive 
ball. In a moment he removed his hand from her shoulder, sighed and stood 
up. She heard his footsteps going away from the bed. The door opened and 
closed and she was alone. Crying softly, she rolled onto her belly. She 
spread her arms out beneath the covers, enjoying the friction of the sheet 
on her breasts which were scarcely protected by the flimsy housecoat. After 
all she'd done, and now knew she would never do again, she thought she could 
allow herself that minute consolation. 

About ten minutes must have passed before the door opened again. Katherine 
still lay face down, and she pretended sleep as she heard his footsteps 
coming back to the bed, felt it give again as he sat down beside her. 
Silently she waited for the barrage of questions she knew were to come. But 
instead she felt his hand come to rest lightly on her back, slipping beneath 
the covers to begin to massage her with a gentle expertise she wouldn't have 
thought her husband capable of, carefully and tenderly loosening the stiff 
muscles of her back. An involuntary purr escaped her and she made a soft 
squirming motion beneath the covers. It felt so good and gentle and now she 
needed that so badly. Then, when she heard the voice that spoke, her body 
snapped taut as a wire: "Mrs. Beauchamp, I think I'm the only person in this 
house who understands what you're going through now." 

It was Lys! 

"I just want to tell you I understand. And somehow I want you to try to 
understand me." 

She turned over slowly. Gritting her teeth she stared up at the blonde's 
beautiful, sympathetic face framed by the long golden hair that hung over 
her breasts almost to her waist. She felt the anger surge like molten lava 
up in her. She rose, trembling, to a sitting position on the bed, clutching 
her coat tightly to her half-exposed breasts. 

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" 

"About what you're going through, and your natural reaction to it. I 
understand and I want to try to help you." 

"HELP ME?" 

Her hand lashed out like a whip, swiping hard across the side of the girl's 
face. When it had passed, she saw crimson prints of her own fingers rush to 
the girl's cheeks. But she hadn't flinched. And there seemed to be not a 
sign of hostility in the blue eyes that gazed, through the tears that filled 
them, calmly back at her. 

"YOU ARE THE CAUSE OF IT ALL!" she said. "YOU ARE THE CAUSE OF EVERYTHING 
I'VE DONE!" 

She didn't even hear the girl's still tranquil reply. In a flash she was out 
from beneath the covers and running, the house coat trailing loosely on her 
almost naked body, through the door and down the hall, across the patio, 
into the den where Paul was watching television and no sign of Tom. Without 
a reply to her husband's astonished gaze she clutched the coat together, her 
fingers fumbling to tie the sash, and went out of the den and on to the 
bedroom where she found him reading a magazine. 

She stopped in the door and caught her breath. He looked up at her 
strangely. 

"Mom?" 

"GET HER OUT!" 

"What?" 

"GET THAT LITTLE CUNT OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW!" she screamed, her body 
shaking with her anger. 

She saw his face redden slowly. He nodded his head, tossing the magazine 
aside. He dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. His eyes bore angrily 
into Katherine's, then they slowly descended the length of her body that was 
hardly concealed by the flimsy robe clinging temptingly to her luxurious 
contours. Then he walked over and picked up the duffel bag he used instead 
of a suitcase and began tossing a few personal items into it. Katherine 
watched him dumbly for a moment, unable to believe what she saw. 

"I didn't mean you," she said weakly. "Just her." 

He didn't look up or answer. He went ahead carefully packing the bag. "Tom?" 

She took a step toward him. She was looking at his face and his body. She 
was remembering him. She was remembering the day she had him. She was 
remembering the feel, so long ago, of his lips on her breasts as she nursed 
him. She could hear Paul's voice echoing from the reaches of her mind: "The 
only sex kicks you get are nursing that goddamn baby." She remembered him 
struggling with his gleeful face shining as the rest of the team hoisted him 
to their shoulders and carried him off the field. She remembered the sight 
of him, in the darkness of this room, as Lys sucked his cock that first 
night they got back. The images all flooded circularly and at once in her 
mind. And she knew something now, suddenly clear as bright light: If she let 
him walk out of the house now she wouldn't see him again for a long time. 
Maybe not for years. Maybe never. 

"Tom! I didn't mean it." 

He still didn't look up. She was walking toward him, her hand still 
clutching the robe, yet loosely so it hardly concealed her swelling breasts, 
so her slender satiny thighs protruded from it with her steps. 

"I didn't mean it. I said that because I love you." 

She threw her arms around him, feeling the coat to fall apart down the 
front. He tried to push her away, then with the realization that came upon 
him as he felt her naked breasts brush his arm, his body stiffened and he 
turned his head to stare at her incredulously. 

"I didn't mean it," she continued, the words flowing from her mouth without 
control. "I didn't mean it, I said it because I love you and I don't want 
you to go or her to go or anything, I just want you to stay here because I 
love you. Tom. Tom. Tom." 

"What are you doing?" he said, trying to push her away. 

Her thighs brushed his crotch. She felt it and a shiver went through her 
body. A soft sob came to her lips. She squirmed her body wildly against him, 
kissing him madly all over the face. It had to be, she thought. 

Insane as it was, it had to be. As if it had been written, long ago. And 
maybe it had. 

"It has to be, Tom. It has to be." 

"Mother!" 

"I saw your father making love to Lys in the patio the day after you got 
here." 

The words hit him like a bombshell. As she said it, she released him, 
letting him step back and stare at her with incredulous anger as the words 
and their meaning seeped into his consciousness. He looked dazed, almost in 
shock. Scarce surprise even registered in his eyes as she pushed the 
housecoat off her shoulders, let it fall to the floor behind, leaving her 
body completely nude and exposed before him. He didn't retreat as she 
stepped slowly toward him, her breath wrenching hoarsely from her lungs, her 
breasts swollen and heaving with the strained breathing, her eyes wild and 
determined with her lust. And as she undid his belt and unzipped his levis 
and pulled them off his hips, he didn't resist. 

She reached inside his jockey shorts, her fingers lightly caressing the 
hard, erect shaft of his cock which twitched and throbbed at her touch. A 
sob of delight escaping her, she pulled the shorts off his hips so they 
fell, after his levis, to his ankles. She gazed down bleary eyed at the hard 
beautiful shaft of her mature son's virile young cock. Oh God, he was a real 
man now, she thought as she bent toward it, pushing him down to a reclining 
position on the side of the bed. Her son was a man now. He was everything 
that always, subconsciously, she'd ever dreamed he would be. "Mom?" 

It was but a faint gasp of protest, and it faded away as he felt her lips 
touch the throbbing purple head of his penis, forming a circle as her tongue 
flicked wetly over the gland, then slide slowly down the shaft. Suddenly, 
his last resistance fading, he jerked his hips violently upwards, thrusting 
it deeper into her wet sucking mouth, his hands dropping to her shoulders, 
then moving down to the breasts that so many years ago had nursed him. A 
soft moan exuded from his throat and he began to rotate his hips sensuously, 
driving his cock slowly in and out of the exquisite cavern of his mother's 
mouth. 

She could have sucked him forever. She would have loved to suck him until he 
came, to have swallowed every drop of that seed that was in part her own, to 
have licked his beautiful hard young cock dry of it, to have held it 
tenderly in her mouth until it deflated. But the urgency in her own loins 
was more than she could stand. And she could hear voices, Paul's and Lys', 
from somewhere else in the house. So one last time she inched her lips down 
the now slick, palpitating pole, her tongue flicking out into the bristles 
of hair standing off his youthful sperm-filled testicles. Then she raised 
her head and slid up his body, climbing on the bed with him and crouching 
above him, spreading her thighs wide as she seized the bursting, still 
growing member gently in her hands, bent it to an upright position and 
fitted the tip up between her open thighs into the already slick wet lips of 
her cunt. 

With a soft wail Katherine dropped her hips abruptly down. It slipped in 
easily, filling and stretching her eagerly welcoming vaginal sheath until 
she wanted to scream from the ecstasy of it. She settled her hips on his 
loins, screwing them around in a slow gentle circle so the cock seemed to 
ream the hungry burning walls of her vagina. 

Tom gave a soft groan, flexing deep inside her. She lowered her face to him 
and kissed him full on the lips, sucking his tongue deep in her mouth, 
rotating her hips more wildly as he thrust up, driving viciously to the most 
inner reaches of her cunt and causing her to wail gleefully. Then suddenly 
both of them began to toss and thmsh wildly, her son lunging beneath her, 
Katherine bouncing up and down so that at the peak she almost lifted 
completely off the giant, skewering instrument, and at the bottom of her 
descent she was excruciatingly impaled almost to the depths of her widely 
flowered belly. 

The orgasmic fluttering in her loins began almost the instant the smooth 
rubbery head of his penis first touched the sensitive wet lips of her pussy. 
It rumbled like thunder deep inside her, a great stirring storm of the sea. 
Rapidly the ecstasy and longing that filled her surged upward toward its 
shattering peak. It's Tom, she told herself deliriously. It was Tom, her own 
beautiful young seventeen year old son, who was fucking her so deeply and 
wonderfully, Tom whom she'd wanted so long Tom, whom she'd wanted since the 
day he was born. The sound of the footsteps in the hall did nothing to deter 
her. She continued to toss and thmsh wantonly upon him, letting her body 
fall with total hedonistic abandon on his viriley hardened young cock that 
lunged with equal savagery into her burning loins. When she heard her 
husband's voice and the incredulous curse that escaped his lips, she didn't 
alter the frenzy of her tense staccato hunching. She was cumming insanely 
and her son, she knew, was also past the point of no return. She would have 
to deal with Paul later, she thought only vaguely as the shudders of ecstasy 
rippled through her loins, as she felt her vagina spasm, tighten hungrily on 
Tom's cock, wringing it for everything it could give her. 

She lay exhausted on top of him. She thought for a moment she might have 
even slept. But now she was awake and content, his hands stroking gently 
over the tender naked skin of her back. 

"I don't know what happened," he said. "I'm sorry mother. I know it was my 
fault." 

She kissed him so passionately on the lips that he could not resist, 
squirming her naked breasts over his chest. Then with a soft, sad sob she 
lifted her hips up, her tightly locked vaginal walls reluctantly 
relinquishing the penis it warmly caressed, and rolled off of him. 

"No Tom," she said in a voice that must have sounded strange to him. 
"Everything is all right for the first time in such a long time and it's 
nobody's fault and there's nothing for anyone to be sorry about." He looked 
at her strangely. "I just have to go straighten this out with your father 
and then ... " 

"I guess I'll never be able to look him in the eye again either," said Tom. 
"But damn him, Lys was my girl and he had no business ... " A gentle caress 
of her hands on his wet, now deflated cock silenced him. "Don't be so 
up-tight," Katherine said with an oddly mischievous smile. She leaned over 
and tenderly kissed the tip of his glistening penis, then hopped off the bed 
and walked, still naked, into the hall. 

She found Paul in the bedroom going through some personal papers. On the 
floor beside the chair she noted his briefcase, which he was apparently 
filling with the things he would be needing during the next few days. She'd 
expected as much. He was going to leave too. But she was pretty sure she 
knew how to stop him and to accomplish that, she'd already resolved she 
would do whatever was required. She had loved him in a way, without ever 
having given him a sexually satisfying experience. She had not been 
completely unhappy with him. But with what she'd learned in the last few 
days and with the freeing of her own mind from the horrible shackles of 
false morality that had bound her that had happened the moment she'd made up 
her mind to go ahead and yield to that ultimate temptation, incest she could 
hardly even dream of the happiness she'd cheated herself and Paul out of all 
these years. But she knew there was still time to try to make up for some of 
it. 

Paul looked up with a seething anger. Nothing in his eyes displayed any 
appreciation or even awareness of his nakedness. Then he resumed shuffling 
through the papers. 

"I didn't know if you'd get finished in time for me to say goodbye to you," 
he said without looking up. 

"I don't want you to go," Katherine said. 

He didn't answer. He bent down and dropped another batch of forms into his 
briefcase, then continued with his task. 

"I love you." 

"Fuck off," he snapped. 

For a moment after that Katherine watched him in silence. A strange thrill 
of anticipation coursed through her loins. She wanted him now, so very much, 
as she'd never let herself want him before. She knew that out of her guilt, 
she'd channeled her natural sexual desire for the man she loved into an 
incestuous mother-love that was perverted not in itself but in its twisted 
motive. But she felt no guilt for what had happened with their son. That 
even now seemed pure and natural, the only logical response to her feelings. 

Breathless, Katherine walked to the dresser. She saw him glance nervously 
up, then pretend to ignore her. She paused, so close to him his elbow almost 
brushed the thick black hair of her pussy, and slowly sank toward the floor. 
She reached down to his trousers and opened the zipper halfway before he 
angrily shoved her away, so hard she almost fell on her back. Breathing 
heavily now, she regained her balance and made no protest. With a swift deft 
flick of her finger she finished unzipping the trousers. She felt that 
though his penis wasn't nearly hard, neither was it quite soft. She took 
consolation in the fact that already she'd made a start, then met his angry 
gaze unashamedly, ready for whatever his response might be. For a moment she 
thought he was going to hit her, and she waited willingly even for that. 
Then again he tried to pretend to ignore her and returned his attention to 
the papers. Sucking in a sharp breath, Katherine reached to his crotch 
again, slipped two fingers in and changed the direction of his now rapidly 
hardening penis so it pointed up out of his fly. She felt him shift 
uncomfortably and again he glared at her, the anger not tempered by his 
astonishment. In spite of everything he tried to do to stop it, his penis 
was rising. And she could see in his eyes that now he was aware with 
grudging appreciation of her nakedness. She leaned forward and took it in 
her mouth, twirling her tongue sensuously around it, trying to call to fore 
in a moment everything she'd learned in the last three mad days. Instantly 
his cock swelled in her mouth to its full size and she popped her lips off 
of it and looked up with an expression of unreserved surrender. 

"I'll do anything you want, Paul. Anything you want." 

She saw the struggle mirrored in his face: anger and desire, love and hate 
in a relentless, life and death battle. His teeth gritted and his eyes 
flared and she waited, naked, on her knees. After what seemed a terribly 
long time, a vicious looking grin twisted his lips. 

"All right. You asked for it." 

He stood up, brushing past her, and walked over to the bed. He paused beside 
it and began taking off his clothes. Katherine rose and walked after him, 
her heart pounding so hard she thought it would burst, her breath sharp and 
heavy. 

"Get up there," he said, pointing at the bed. "On your knees." 

Beset by a vaguely frightening premonition, she complied. Out of the comer 
of her eye she watched him finish undressing. In his eyes was a look she'd 
never seen before, and she wondered anxiously what terrible thing he might 
be capable of doing to her to appease his wrath. 

"Now, kneel up, with your incestuous little ass in the air," he commanded 
when he'd removed his trousers. 

For a moment she hesitated. Then she felt his hand on her hips, jerking them 
to the kneeling position he desired: her buttocks high in the air, her face 
and torso and swollen breasts resting on the bed, thighs wide apart to 
expose her cunt and anus. She felt the bed give slightly as he climbed up 
behind her; then his hands slid into the crack between her buttocks, probing 
at the tight sore hole of her anus, and with a sudden sickening fear she 
remembered the terrible pain when that young boy in the deserted house had 
inadvertently violated for but a moment that terrible tightness, and she 
understood what he had on his mind. 

Katherine bit her lip to muffle the cry of protest that welled in her 
throat. Anything but that, she thought. My god, she'd never be able to stand 
it! But somehow, even as she felt his hands grasp harshly at her hips, 
holding them steady in the air as he leaned forward to fit his giant 
palpitating shaft in the softly yielding crevice of her nakedly upraised 
buttocks, she held back her protest. She'd said she would do anything. She 
was going to stick by her promise. 

Katherine gasped from the first contact. It felt huge, much larger than 
she'd ever thought it before of the relativity to her closed, unlubricated 
rectal hole. She could never take it. Tears filled her eyes as she felt him 
probe forward, pushing against the tightly contracted little circle, and she 
started to retreat. Then he seized her hips and tugged her backwards. 

"Relax," he said. "Open it up." 

She wanted to scream and plead for mercy. She wanted to kiss his feet, suck 
his cock until it was dry and soft and harmless. She wanted to tell him that 
when she'd said she would do anything, she'd meant "anything but this". But 
somehow she conquered her fear. With a soft urgent sob she sank her hips 
back, opening her anal passage as she felt his thumbs press outward on 
either side of it and peel it apart. Then he thrust forward mercilessly. 

"Aaaaaagh! Aaaaaaaaagh!" she screamed. 

She squirmed her naked breasts on the bedsheets, tossing her head from side 
to side as she felt the tight resisting nether ring giving way before the 
unyielding pressure, the tip of his penis popping up inside with a jerk. 

She screamed again, then groaned deeply as the blunt intrusion of his cock 
vibrated through every fiber of her being, pushing the soft rubbery flesh 
inside her wide-stretched anal passage in great waves of pain before it. She 
moaned in submission, her eyes closing tightly in torment, shudders racking 
her body. At last she felt the coarse hair of his loins smack heavily 
against the softness of her nakedly exposed buttocks. The cruel fleshy 
thickness was buried to the hilt. 

Without reservation, she began to cry, the sobs racking her body, the tears 
flooding from her eyes and wetting her cheeks and the pillow beneath them. 
She gritted her teeth and shoved her buttocks back against his, straining 
against the pain and he began to saw rhythmically back and forth deep in the 
soft depths of her back passage, gradually increasing the length of his 
strokes until the whole of his hugely-rounded rod was fucking deeply in and 
out of her. 

But as he increased the vicious thrusting, he seemed to try to temper the 
pain with caresses of his hands that became almost gentle. At first they'd 
viciously held her pelvis in the humiliating position. Now they began to 
rove softly over her buttocks and down her thighs, juxtaposing the bitter 
torment of her rectum with soft tingles of desire that coursed out from his 
touch. Shivering, Katherine began to squirm her hips, increasing the 
sensation that, though still painful, was becoming more bearable. 

Then a sharp cry of agony escaped her as he leaned forward so that his cock 
was even more bent down by its confinement in her rectum, even more, greatly 
increasing the excruciating friction. In response to her cry he 
automatically withdrew slightly. Another sob escaped her, but different now. 
She felt a lump in her throat and when she spoke it was with a low grunting 
voice: "D-do you, oooh, l-love me, d-darling?" 

He froze behind her. For a moment there was complete silence save for both 
their breathing. His hands on her were still. The only movement was the 
throbbing of his cock inside her. Then he sighed deeply. 

"Yes. I still love you." 

He said it stiffly, grudgingly, but she knew he meant it anyway and right 
now that was all that mattered. She rocked her buttocks back hard against 
his loins, again taking the full length of the shaft in her throbbing, 
stretched rectum. 

"Then fuck me hard," she gasped. "Fuck me as hard as you want to, as hard as 
you can and make me pay for all I've done." 

For an instant longer he was motionless except for the painful twitching of 
his penis in her rectum. Then with a vicious lunge he unleashed the fury of 
his anger and lust, smacking her buttocks loudly with his loins, racking her 
body with the impact, the enormous instrument driving brutally into the 
tight, burning orifice. 

But even as he'd resumed the lunging, the pain in her anus had been tempered 
by the feel of his hand sliding down her pubis, brushing lightly over her 
clitoris before one of his fingers plunged swiftly into her yearning vagina. 
Gradually, the pain seemed to fade. Or perhaps she learned to stand it. Or 
perhaps it was just the juxtaposition of the pleasure of his hand in her 
vagina and the knowledge that from now on life would be different and oh so 
much better that prompted Katherine to begin her own frantic squirming and 
lunging, wailing softly and deliriously as she used her own body to fuck 
back and compliment everything her husband did to her. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

"You all right?" Paul asked her almost sheepishly. 

She sobbed softly, rubbing her naked breasts against his chest. "Yes. I 
didn't know ... I could ... make it like that." She managed a laugh. "Yes. I 
feel wonderful. But will you do something a little more orthodox in a few 
minutes." 

"Yeah." Then a thoughtful frown crossed his face. "But first I've got 
something else to take care of." 

Abruptly he slid off the bed and stepped into his trousers. Katherine 
watched him through her glistening eyes, feeling the love well up inside 
her. How he could still love her after everything they'd been through, she 
didn't know. But again she vowed she would have to make it up to him. As he 
walked shirtless out of the room, she realized there was someone else to 
whom she had to make up quite a lot. She'd been an unimaginal bitch to Lys 
ever since the girl got here. That didn't half describe it. 

Katherine slithered hurriedly out of the bed, went to the closet and pulled 
out the first dress she could find, a loose-fitting cotton sheath, and 
donned it quickly. Then she started after Paul, across the patio. 

She got to the den just as it happened. 

It was without warning at all. There was no time for Lys or Tom to have ever 
imagined what Paul was going to do. They'd just both watched him enter, Lys 
smiling in her usually seductive manner, Tom looking half-guilty, 
half-irritated. And as he'd approached the couch Tom had stood, and Paul had 
thrown the clean hard right so fast Katherine hardly even realized it until 
Tom was on the floor on his back behind the couch. 

Lys gave a little gasp and Katherine screamed and ran toward her son, but 
before she got to him something in his eyes stopped her. Sobbing, she held 
herself back and watched Tom climb to his feet. He walked calmly around the 
couch, rubbing the inside of his mouth with his finger as if to see that all 
his teeth were still intact. Then with a sudden, smooth leap he traversed 
the distance between himself and his father, feinted with a left and threw a 
right of his own, and Katherine screamed again as Paul Beauchamp landed on 
the carpet. Tom stood over him like a heavyweight waiting to see if his 
opponent would beat the ten count. Paul sat up, watching his son warily and 
rubbing his own jaw. Then cautiously he got to his own feet. For a moment, 
Katherine was afraid Paul was going after Tom again. But instead, he turned 
and walked over to the bar. He brought out two cold beers and opened them. 
During the next few seconds, a falling pin would have sounded like a 
crashing building. Then Tom grinned and Paul grinned back at him and walked 
halfway to meet him with the two beers. Out of the corner of her eye 
Katherine watched Lys stand up and began sensuously to remove her clothes. 

Katherine waited until the blonde was down to only her transparent bikini 
panties, then in a swift movement peeled her own dress over her head. Then 
Lys shimmied out of her panties. 

The two women looked at each other silently for a moment, then as if by 
mutual agreement, turned and walked toward the waiting, eager-eyed men. 


THE END
