The Willing Young Widow
[aka 'A Widow's Day Dreams']
by Kitty Spencer 


FOREWORD 

Pursuing morality and immorality have been dominant goals for man since the 
time of recorded history. Among the proponents of morality are a group of 
philosophers known as Stoics; believers that man should be free from 
passion, unmoved by joy or grief, and submit without complaint to 
unavoidable necessity. One of the foremost apostles of this doctrine was 
Lucius Annaeous Seneca, whose fame and influence impressed even the 
theologians of Christianity during a period of horrible persecution, despite 
the fact he was not a believer of their faith. His philosophies penetrated 
into the minds of Montaigne, Bacon, Shakespeare, Ben Johnson, Racine, 
Milton, and Dryden. Even in the 19th century it attracted poets like 
Wordsworth and thinkers like Emerson. 

On the side of immorality, there was a man whose very name was, and still 
is, synonymous with immoral excesses of all kinds and an object of utter 
detest to moral Christians. Nero! This man was ruler of the Roman Empire 
during its "Great Age" - a period in which it flourished and expanded under 
the guidance of a succession of "concerned" emperors. 

It is ironical that two individuals of such vastly different moral thinking 
- to say nothing of behavior - should be remembered today within the same 
conjunctive thought. The irony, however, does not stop there. Both men 
evolved from the same era, both men lived within the same time span, and 
both of them resided in the same country. Extraordinary? Yes. But there is 
more. And the fact that they lived under the same roof is enough to boggle 
the mind in its incredibility. 

Yet it is truth. 

A truth that becomes even more ironical when one realizes that the infamous 
Nero with his scandalous behavior that few men have exceeded, was the pupil 
of the righteous Seneca, a man famous in his own right for his preaching of 
moral doctrine, of which the following is an example: Virtue is a lofty, 
quality, sublime, royal, unconquerable, untiring. You will meet virtue in 
the temple, the marketplace, the senate house, manning the walls, covered 
with dust, sunburnt, horny-handed; you will find pleasure sulking put of 
sight, seeking shady nooks. 

You may, then, boldly declare that the highest good is singleness of mind, 
for where the agreement and unity are, there must the virtues be. It is the 
vices that are at war with one another. 

So, the immoral emperor and the virtuous philosopher lived hand-in-hand. And 
when it came time to die, it was the same - death by their own hands. 

From this contrast in character, of morality and immorality, the author has 
taken the threads, infused two of the most powerful themes in literature - 
revenge, and sexual attraction of man and woman and woven a tale. 

We see in Jill Foster a personification of many of our social ills today. 
She is bitter, unhappy, and disappointed that the magic promises of life 
have dissolved under the heat of reality. At twenty-three she is suddenly 
widowed. When she learns of the man who has taken the life of her husband, 
she becomes an avenging angel of doom. 

Under her neurotic plan for revenge, Jill becomes embroiled in a grotesque 
manhunt that pits her own morality against the overwhelming forces of evil. 
Offered a second chance to experience everything she has lost - sexual 
contentment, happiness, companionship - she finds herself caught in a 
whirlpool of depravity that springs from that initial quest for revenge. 

In this graphic portrayal of vengeance and immorality, the final question is 
not resolved until the last page, and in the immortal words of Seneca, 
perhaps, lies the answer: "Revenge is a confession of pain." 

-The Publishers 

 PROLOGUE 

The girl with the honey colored hair had been sitting by the terminal gate 
for almost half an hour. As the minutes lengthened she seemed to be reading 
a copy of a news magazine, flicking through the pages slowly. Most of the 
time, though, her eyes had been on the entrance to the boarding ramp. As the 
last passenger passed through Gate 16 she closed the periodical, bent 
gracefully to pick up a small makeup case of tooled leather and joined the 
end of the line. Her movements were casual and unhurried. She was not 
unaware of the hungry, male eyes which took in each detail of her slender 
figure from the soft mass of hair to the small tips of her white shoes. She 
was as delicately exquisite as a rare orchid and the expensively simple suit 
of beige colored silk flatteringly touched her hips and the contours of her 
long legs. Her oval face was as fresh as spring lupin and she looked as 
though she were the perfectly poised and turned out product of an exclusive 
finishing school. Without speaking she turned her ticket over to the 
gatemen, received it back, nodded pleasantly, and passed on. 

At the steps of the jet, the girl seemed to be having trouble with the clasp 
of her bag. It took her a few moments to adjust it and during the interval 
she kept her eyes on the ramp to the terminal building. 

"Better hurry, Miss," the ground steward urged and held out a hand to assist 
her to the steps. 

Then, without haste, she stepped lightly up, followed by the steward. He 
watched her disappear and shook his head bewilderedly. People were always 
doing funny things. She could have just as well fixed her bag inside. 

The DC-10 moved out as slowly and as effortlessly as a breeze, gently 
twisting its long, gleaming body down the runway ramp. Minutes later it was 
hurtling along the runway, then rising steeply on its way to Los Angeles. 

* * * 

Head propped against a pillow, long legs stretched as far as space would 
allow, Matt Grant watched the smoke from his cigarette rise and disappear 
with the invisible current of the air-conditioning system. His dark, lean 
face was in repose but there was an odd, speculative luster in his eyes as 
though something secretly amused him. He had been in this position from the 
time the huge jet had left the Cleveland airport. When he was thinking, he 
liked to stretch out and he was thinking now, seriously, and with a curious 
sense of baffled curiosity. Nothing dropped into form as it should. There 
were intriguing bits of a puzzle in his mind but they refused to fall into 
place. The whole thing just didn't make any sense! 

He drew heavily upon the cigarette stub and lit another from its coal. The 
small tray on the arm rest beside him was all but overflowing with twisted 
butts. Intuition, experience, told him this was no fantastic coincidence and 
yet it had to be. Coincidence's that involved Victor Rizzi - head of 
Cleveland's underworld "family" - were Matt Grant's business. And Jill 
Foster was Victor Rizzi's secretary. So, she too, was his business. But why 
was she leaving Cleveland? Why was she traveling alone? Why? Why? Why? 

Matt rubbed the knuckles of a heavy hand against his nose as though this 
rough massage would draw out the answer. 

A week ago he had been in Mexico. There, in the countryside, the magic bush 
grew. Acres, upon acres; mile after mile of verdant beauty, shining in the 
sunlight like endless fields of ripe quivering corn. But they brought no 
aesthetic pleasure to the women and girls who worked among the rows 
harvesting the mature marijuana plants for market. Nor to the Federal Bureau 
of Narcotics, Mexican authorities, undercover agents, and informers who 
fought an endless war to shut off the supply into the United States. From 
Matamoros, across the Rio Grande from Brownsville, Texas, to Tijuana, with 
its crossing into San Diego, there were hundreds of openings. It was 
impossible to police this extensive border. What Washington tried to do was 
close the big gaps. Sometimes, Matt thought wearily, the whole thing was 
like a worn tire. You patched it up here and it blew out there. In Mexico 
City, he had talked long and earnestly with Mexican officials, government 
agents, local police. They had flown over the area and looked down upon the 
fields. It seemed incredible that such malignance, terror, agony and torture 
could stem from the fields of shimmering beauty. 

Back in Washington, Matt had carefully prepared his report. It contained 
little of which the Bureau was not aware and served only to keep some sort 
of a check on the current activities. He had been given a pat on the head, a 
weeks vacation, and a transfer to Los Angeles. The transfer was not 
unexpected; he had worked there before. In fact he liked California. What 
better place to start a vacation? But he was restless. In his mind there was 
a file of names and faces that ranged from the lowly users and pushers to 
the top - the heads of the underworld "families", the brains behind the web 
of organized crime that spanned from coast to coast. And, Victor Rizzi was 
there. So was Jill Foster. It bothered him - vacation or not. . . 

Matt Grant straightened up from his lounging position, ordered a martini and 
stared out the window. He sipped the liquor appreciatively, and smiled at 
his reflection in the glass. He had a much needed seven days of leisure and 
here he was, right in the middle of a witches' brew. Whatever Vic Rizzi - 
and Jill Foster - were up to was really none of his business. He chuckled, 
he'd simply take his seat in the orchestra and watch the show. Yet, in a 
small part of Matt's mind, there was a voice that wouldn't let him rest - a 
voice that had interested him when he had first seen the Foster girl in the 
terminal. 

She was a thing of beauty. She had a background, breeding, education. How 
then, had she gotten involved with Victor Rizzi? Why was she working for a 
known gangster. No, "gangster" was old-fashioned. These days society had to 
deal with a new breed, a second generation from the mob rulers who once held 
all the major American cities as their private kingdoms and shooting 
preserves. The Capones, Schultzes, Lepkes, and Lucianos were men of musty 
fiction. In their places were shrewd businessmen, many of them graduates of 
eastern universities. They lived quietly, circumspectly and in an aura of 
respectability. Yet their well-manicured fingers still held the same old 
threads. Dope, Gambling. Prostitution. The manifold rackets from the numbers 
with their five-and-ten-cent bets to silent partnerships in hotels and 
casinos from Las Vegas to Acapulco. Nothing had really changed. The 
operation now was suave, polished, sophisticated. Murder was done and often, 
but it no longer roared around a corner in a black sedan. It came quietly 
and with finesse. 

The Foster girl, he mused, was part of the new look. He had watched her from 
a point outside her vision. For all her appearance of casualness her 
attention had never strayed for long from the boarding gates. So, he had 
told himself, she is waiting for someone to show but it wasn't Rizzi. If she 
was taking a trip with Victor, wouldn't she have gone directly to the plane? 
So why the hell hadn't she gone to the plane instead of sitting there 
pretending to read a magazine? 

Grant had decided to wait. There was time. His curiosity had been piqued as 
she watched gate 16, the flight to Los Angeles; his flight. 

When she had finally closed the magazine, he had dropped his cigarette, 
mashing it out with the toe of a shoe, and joined the line ahead of her. 

Now - and he smiled at the reflection in the glass - he had this interest 
provoking situation to watch. Maybe - just maybe - he might combine a little 
business with pleasure .. . 

* * * 

Jill Foster was suspended somewhere halfway between sleep and a drowsy 
wakefulness as the plane flew steadily westward. In the corners of her fine 
eyes small amounts of moisture had collected. Her thoughts had returned to 
Jack, her Jack .. . her husband . . . Lieutenant Jack Foster, member of 
Baltimore's vice squad on loan to the Cleveland Police Department as an 
undercover agent in a joint project to smash a thriving prostitution ring 
that floated between Cleveland, Pittsburg, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. Her 
Jack.. . dead and buried in a cold cemetery plot, put there by one Victor 
Rizzi. 

It had begun over a year ago. At that time, only days after Jack's death, 
Jill had thought it the thing to do. In her sorrow, confused and revengeful, 
it had seemed sensible. Now, as she looked back on it, it had been stupid - 
a thing some head-strong teenager might do. It had really started with 
Captain Elliot Fisher. It had been he who had unwittingly planted the germ 
of an idea in her head when he painstakingly explained the facts behind 
Jack's senseless death. 

The tearful woman who sat across from him would not be placated by the 
prepared statements released after her husband's death. She pressed him 
relentlessly with probing questions. Why? Why? Why? she wanted to know. Why 
had Jack really been in Cleveland? Why had he been killed? Who had killed 
him? Finally, he had given in to her, telling her what he could about the 
events leading up to the death. Bare facts, but essential facts to Jill who 
lay awake that night and every night for two weeks thereafter, sleeping only 
when the sun rose and dispelled the lonely darkness from the bedroom and the 
double bed with it's single lonely occupant. During the long night Jill went 
over and over the few facts Captain Fisher had given her until a rough plan 
had formed. Then, every night, in the still darkness, she went over it, 
again and again, until finally after two weeks she felt she had rounded off 
the rough edges and had a plan that would work - a plan that would avenge 
her poor Jack. 

Captain Fisher had told her about the person behind the prostitution ring in 
Cleveland and that this man was the man responsible for Jack's death. He had 
also told her that the killing had been professional and that there was not 
a thread of a clue that could link Victor Rizzi to the crime. But Jill knew 
it was there, somewhere, and she would find it. And when she did she would 
see to it that Victor Rizzi was put away. 

But how was she going to get to Rizzi? How could she get close enough to him 
to find out what she needed to know? She could, of course, become a 
prostitute in his ring. She rejected it for two reasons. First, even for the 
memory of her dead husband, it was beyond her moral capabilities. The 
thought repulsed and nauseated her. Secondly, she doubted if any of those 
girls ever got close to him. He probably kept his own mistress, or 
mistresses. Finally, she decided that the only way to get close to him, and 
the evidence she needed, was to get a job within one of his legitimate 
organizations where she could be close to his contacts and his files. From a 
point close to him, within the organization, she could then find the 
information she needed. She was a trained secretary and a skilled model, so 
it shouldn't be too hard to get a job. 

Three weeks after the funeral Jill sold all of their possessions and moved 
to Cleveland. For three months she gathered information on Victor Rizzi's 
operations. She made friends with several of the girls who worked in his 
legitimate enterprises and through one got an interview, and then a job as a 
secretary in his suite of offices. From there it had been easy. Despite her 
mental repulsiveness for the man, Jill worked hard to charm Victor Rizzi. 
Once she gained his confidence, she had set to work discovering all she 
could about the organization. After several months he had made her his 
private secretary and it took skillfullness to fight off his advances. She 
traveled with him wherever he went. She always insisted on separate 
accommodations, but found it difficult to refuse the lavish gifts, clothing 
and credit cards he forced on her. At the end of nine months she still had 
not come any closer to finding the evidence she needed. 

Then, yesterday, Victor had discovered her going through his desk. Somehow 
she had managed to convince him that it was an innocent act, but she knew 
the seed of doubt had been planted. Right now the efficient organization was 
digging into her past and it was only a matter of time before they 
discovered she was the widow of Jack Foster. So she had decided to run! But 
where could she go where he wouldn't find her? How badly would he want her? 
She didn't know. But she could guess. And what was she going to do when she 
got to Los Angeles? There was only a little over four hundred dollars in her 
purse and when that was gone she didn't know where she would get more. She 
would have to find a job where she would be inconspicuous. She couldn't go 
back to modeling, or to a secretarial job. Those would be the first places 
he would look for her. And she had to find a place to live ... 

The plane began to shudder slightly and the "fasten seat belt" sign flashed 
on. They were descending for the approach to Los Angeles International 
Airport. Oh well, she thought, first things first. I need a drink to calm my 
nerves. I'll buy a newspaper and check the want ads. Something will turn up 
. . . 

 CHAPTER ONE 

The airport bar was crowded. At a table in one darkened corner the girl with 
honey-blonde hair was seated with unaffected naturalness. A neatly folded 
newspaper lay on the table before her. She was oblivious of the covert 
glances of the unattached males who scanned every detail of her breasts, 
legs, and face; the figure so artfully molded in the tailored suit. When her 
eyes did meet an inquisitive and speculative stare they did so without the 
slightest trace of recognition but passed on and beyond. 

The man with the dark, lean face and odd speculative eyes hesitated in front 
of the vacant chair. The girl looked up and saw the question in his eyes. 

"Certainly." She murmured. Her words were soft, tinged with a well-bred 
huskiness. "No one's sitting in it." 

"Thank you. There doesn't seem to be a vacant table." 

The girl smiled with a pleasant impersonality but said nothing. Her 
attention returned to the slender rows of black print. 

"This is the first time I have been west of the Rockies." The man's 
hawk-like eyes sparkled with feigned excitement. "I've come to California to 
see my sister and her children. She's been trying for years to get me to 
come - even stay. Said I would live twenty years longer out here. Don't know 
whether that's a real advantage or not." He chuckled at the mild jest. Then, 
as an afterthought, he fished about in a breast pocket, removed an old 
wallet, extracted a faded photograph and tentatively extended it toward the 
girl. She took it with a small expression of patience. "That's my sister and 
her children." A pleased smile creased his features. "Of course it isn't a 
very good picture. I guess everyone says that about a photograph." 

The girl studied the group with forced interest. "Nice looking children." 
She handed it back. 

"It was taken several years ago." He replaced the picture in his wallet. "I 
guess the boys are real young men by this time. 

It is going to be quite an experience to see them." 

He was prattling with such disarming innocence and goodwill that the girl 
found herself warming despite herself. She lay the want-ad section aside. 

The man beckoned to a passing waitress. 

"I think I would have a gin, no vermouth but with just a touch of olive 
juice in it." He spoke the words with a relish. "Would you join me?" 

"Gin with olive juice would suit me fine." Her fine blue eyes crinkled with 
laughter. "I don't think I have ever tried the combination." 

"I'm Jill Foster." The girl smiled at the man and lifted an eyebrow. "Now we 
know each other." 

Their drinks arrived and the girl sipped tentatively at the transparent 
liquid. Her tongue touched lightly at her lower lip and approval of the 
drink appeared in her eyes. She produced a cigarette, let him light it, 
leaned back in her chair and studied him. 

His dark speculative gaze held hers. "Where you heading? Or is this your 
final destination?" 

"This is it... I think." She said it impulsively, half out of loneliness, 
half out of the feeling that if Rizzi was looking for her, his men would be 
less likely to look for a woman and a man. 

"Perhaps," he hesitated only a moment, "perhaps we could have dinner 
together? That is, if you don't have an engagement." 

The answer came in the length of time it took her long, dark lashes to 
blink, twice, rapidly. "Thank you." She gave him a smile which flooded over 
him like warm sunshine. "I think it would be pleasant." Jill Foster took a 
deep breath. She had been startled by the abruptness of the question and the 
approach. Instinct, experience, forced her to unbend and adopt a more casual 
air. There was something so gentle and reassuring in the innocently beaming 
face ... and something vaguely familiar. "Strange," she said, "but I have 
the feeling that we've met somewhere before." 

Matt Grant darted a quick glance at the girl. Something in what she said, 
not the words, but the tone, suddenly made him wary. It was as though Jill 
Foster knew something he didn't. That was ridiculous, he told himself. How 
could she? 

Suddenly there was a quiet tension between them - an intangible tension like 
two jungle cats stalking one another in the darkness - as they quietly 
reappraised each other. Matt was bent slightly forward, his big hands 
dangling loosely between his knees. The smoke from a cigarette between his 
fingers drifted from under the table and twined upward in a wavering vine. 
Jill stared at him with a puzzled, all but frightened fascination. There was 
a compelling, saturnine quality about the man. He seemed gentle, and yet, 
somehow, quietly deadly. It was an unusual combination. 

Matt knew he had to work fast; it would be only a matter of time before she 
remembered. Somewhere, evidently, she had seen him - or a picture of him. 
Was it possible that Victor Rizzi had a file on him? Just as the Bureau had 
one on Rizzi. The answer was obvious! Rizzi was a careful man. Nobody had 
ever been able to pin a thing on him. Not the Bureau, nor the FBI. Not even 
the IRS. And, somehow, somewhere, Jill Foster must have seen that file. It 
seemed incredible, but it must be true. Behind those miraculous blue eyes 
her mind was going clickety-click. He had seen it before. Woah! Slow down 
boy. You've still got the advantage. So your cover's been blown - or about 
to be. So what. All is not lost. You've been backed into corners before. So 
come out fighting. Take away that advantage. 

"How is Victor?" the question was spoken slowly, softly. 

Her eyes went wide. Mutely she expressed her astonishment. Her throat 
constricted. It was an effort to speak above a whisper. 

"How did you know?" The words were barely audible. 

"It's my business to know." Grant was not abrupt. The reply was almost 
quizzically amused. 

"Who are you?" 

For a moment it seemed as though Grant had not heard. He drew upon the 
cigarette and then leaned to press it out in a tray. Finally he reached for 
his wallet, opened it, and held the card for her to read. 

"Oh!" She was relieved. 

"I got curious." He spoke with an abstracted detachment. "I said to myself, 
'Matt, why is such a lovely girl traveling all alone? Why is she being so 
secretive? Why is she going to Los Angeles? And where is her boss?' " He 
tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. "You don't have to answer, 
of course, but Matt is a very curious person, especially where it involves 
the underworld boss of Cleveland." 

She shook her head, refusing to answer. Her eyes searched his face with 
undisguised relief.. . and fear. 

Matt tapped the knuckle of a forefinger against his teeth, his gaze never 
leaving hers. Suddenly a slow, amused smile of comprehension touched his 
features. In those wondrous eyes he read something he had not noticed 
before. The girl was on the run! He whistled, a low note. 

"You're in hot water with Rizzi!" 

At the mention of Victor's name her eyes clouded and something close to 
terror was a quick shadow across her lovely face. She did not answer but her 
head turned to watch him as he stood up. For several seconds she stared 
blankly at him and then rose with him. "Take me out of here." Her voice 
trembled. "Please." 

It was a plea. What was a man to do? He walked around the table and took her 
arm. 

"My sister," he said brightly, "you know, the one with the two boys - told 
me about this marvelous little restaurant up the coast. Gorgeous view of the 
ocean. Candlelight. Very quiet - intimate." He smiled broadly. "If I 
remember correctly, you did say: 'I think dinner would be pleasant.'" 

* * * 

Well north of the Malibu colony, on the broad highway skirting the Pacific, 
there is an exceptionally fine restaurant, the White Horse Inn. The service 
is deft, unobtrusive, and the food excellent. In a corner booth, looking out 
upon a terrace rock garden and miniature waterfall with the broad blue ocean 
as a backdrop, Matt Grant sat across the table from Jill Foster. He turned 
the stem of the glass, holding gin and olive juice, between his fingers and 
regarded her with unconcealed admiration. There was an unflawed, crystal 
beauty here and yet, he thought, there was a mobility of feature which gave 
it light and shadow. This was no cold ornament of a girl, but one which held 
the fire and color of a fine diamond. 

From Los Angeles International Airport, where he had rented a bronze Grand 
Prix, they had driven out Lincoln Boulevard, through Santa Monica, and onto 
the twisting Pacific Coast Highway. They had said little - a word, an 
observation, trivialities, a silence without constraint of the awkwardness 
of strangers - until he had swung into the White Horse parking lot and a few 
moments later were seated and the stemmed drinks before them. 

Now she met his gaze without embarrassment. There was even a small, 
quizzical light of amusement in her eyes. 

"Was this invitation tonight social, or are you being snoopy - a detective?" 
"I'm not a detective. You know that. I'm a Treasury Agent assigned to the 
Bureau of Narcotics. Also," his grin was disarming, "I try, whenever 
possible, to be honest. So maybe it is a little of both -snoopy and social." 

She nodded, satisfied. "May I have another gin?" 

He ordered again for them both and they said nothing until the waiter 
brought the drinks. 

"You're still wondering, aren't you, what I'm doing in California without 
Victor?" 

"Wondering possibly, but I'm not too upset about it." 

"At the airport you seemed to know so much. Who I was." 

"I collect odd bits of information," he interjected. "You're being alone was 
odd." 

The small smile vanished. "Was your being in the Cleveland terminal just a 
coincidence?" 

He nodded. "It was only another trip, until I saw you waiting near the gate. 
I couldn't make myself believe that you alone on the plane was a thing of 
chance. Someone or something was wrong. I began to wonder who and what." He 
studied her. "Why are you running?" 

She hesitated over the answer as though trying to make up her mind whether 
to answer. Then her eyes met his with candor and she told him the story - 
all of it - starting with Jack's death. When she finished she was quietly 
shaken. It was the first time she had told it verbally, in uninterrupted 
sequence. 

"That was an admirable thing, but not very bright. You could be in trouble. 
He measured the words, "You could get killed." 

She lifted one shoulder with a gesture of indifference. "I suppose so." 
There was a small defiance in her gaze and then it dropped. "The word has a 
harsh sound." 

"Semantics." He paused, needing time to thing the situation out, and then 
opened a menu for her. "Let's order." 

"You do it. Anything will be fine." 

He beckoned a waiter and ordered lightly; a salad and then small steaks, 
rare, and with it a bottle of California Pinot Noir. When they were alone 
again he finished the gin. 

"What will Victor do?" 

There was an almost imperceptible start of surprise. Then, again she was 
completely poised. 

"He'll start looking. He dislikes initiative on the part of the hired help." 

"What will you do?" The question was unnecessary and he wondered why he had 
voiced it. "I'm sorry. It's really none of my business." 

Unhappiness was a brief shadow. "No, I don't think you're sorry. You're 
reaching for something. Oh!" The tone changed. It carried, now, the open 
simplicity of a child. "He'll get me. That is, if he is angry enough or 
really wants me back." 

"You're frightened." It was a statement and not a question. 

"Of course." 

"Why did you leave?" he pursued her. 

"I got scared. I found out a lot about him. About all the cruel, inhuman 
things he had done - is still doing. But I couldn't find enough evidence to 
pin Jack's ... murder on him." 

"I know what you mean. I know everything about Rizzi, but nothing I can 
prove. I've wanted him for a long time. The Bureau wants him. One of these 
days he'll make a mistake." 

"Did you think I'd help you help him make one? Is that why we're here 
tonight, together?" 

"No. But, there was a fringe area I wanted to explore." 

"In the first place I couldn't help. In the second place I don't really know 
anything. Oh! I know his friends, his associates, some of the people who 
work for him, but he is not a man who exchanges confidences. I was only a 
small cog in the complex machinery. I know he is a big man in a big and 
frightening organization. But, those are things you already know." She 
shrugged and they drank in companionable silence for the moment. 

"Have you any plans?" he asked finally. 

"No. But I've always made my own way in one fashion or another." 

"I'll be in town for a week at least. I'd like to see you again." 

"No more questions? No more talk of Victor?" 

"I'll just be my charming, ugly self and you may grow a little more 
susceptible to my charms." 

"I hardly think so in a week," she dimpled and her eyebrow raised 
speculatively. "At least I don't think so anyway." 

"It has happened." 

"Yes. Yes, I can believe that although I'm not sure why." 

Two and a half hours later, relatively happy and contented, they left the 
inn and drove northward through Oxnard, Ventura and finally into Santa 
Barbara. The night air was warm and fragrant a moon gave the rolling Pacific 
a silver wash. She didn't ask where they were going and seemed happy simply 
to relax, leaning back against the seat, her shoulder occasionally brushing 
his with unaffected intimacy. 

"Is Grant really your name? Matt Grant? I never knew anyone with the name of 
Matt. Is it short for Matthew?" 

"No. It's just Matt. For that matter, I never knew a girl named Jill 
Foster." 

He made a left turn off the highway on a street leading to the harbor. At 
the end there was a large rambling building with its windows softly lit. 
Beyond were a myriad of mini-structures. The car glided to a stop in front 
of a stylish sign of polished gold, its simple ornateness indicitive of the 
premises affluency: Playa d'Oro. Beach of Gold. From balconied suites of 
red-tiled motif spread a panorama of old-world Spanish antiquity; a grandeur 
that flowed like wild prismatic fire away from the bungalows of whitewashed 
adobe and molded red clay nestled among colorful scented gardens of hyacinth 
and hydrangea, and fanned out toward the restless sea. 

Jill's cheek was resting against the upholstery. She glanced at Matt with a 
sidelong speculation. 

"We'll have a drink, if you like," he said softly. "Some brandy and coffee. 
Then I'll take you home . . . wherever that is." 

"I've never been here before. It's all so new and beautiful. I thought maybe 
you were motel minded and this was it." 

"Suppose I am?" The car was barely moving over the cobbled driveway. 

"I don't know." She answered without hesitation. "I really don't know. And," 
the admission came thoughtfully, "I'm not sure why." 

"This is truly one of the world's great resort complexes, and I practically 
never get motel minded. But in this case I'd make an exception." He paused. 
"Damn it. This is supposed to be a vacation." He searched her eyes. "I'm 
tired of being lonely. You?" 

She straightened up and with a quick, impulsive gesture brushed his cheek 
with the barest touch of a kiss. 

"Thank you, Matt Grant." 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Matt unlocked the door and stood aside as a somewhat apprehensive Jill 
Foster walked past him into the suite. They had had their coffee and brandy 
in the Playa d'Oro's plush Gold Bar, and, while Jill was freshening up in 
the powder room, Matt had made arrangements for one of the secluded 
bungalows snuggled into and completely surrounded by the beautiful gardens. 
These arrangements were elaborate: a suite of rooms that was one of the 
finest the Playa d'Oro had to offer - complete with kitchen facilities, a 
well-stocked bar (including a few choices of Mart's own) a built-in stereo 
system, their own private swimming pool, and a magnificent, unobstructed 
view of the beach, yacht harbor, and the silver-washed Pacific. 

Now, as Jill entered the suite's large living room, Matt saw her draw up in 
surprise and pleasure, then heard her gasp as she gaped at the elaborate 
decor and experienced for the first time the breathtaking view from the 
room's picture window. 

On the left, the harbor and its myriad of yachts and fishing fleet blinked 
out their eternal semaphore of reassurance ... and to the right, some thirty 
miles away, the jeweled red, blue, green and white lights of the Channel 
Islands looked like rubies and emeralds and diamonds. A yellowed old moon 
was just beginning to sink beneath the western horizon, and its shimmering 
luminescence made it look as if a huge golden scimitar had been placed atop 
the sea. 

She turned to him, face uplifted in pleasure, "It's beautiful, I never 
realized..." 

"I'm glad." Oddly enough, he felt strangely touched by her genuine gasp of 
admiration for the view. 

"Here, let me have your coat," he said. When she took it off, her dress 
gaped open, revealing delightful twin mounds of softly firm alabaster flesh 
straining against the interwoven brassiere of the dress's bodice. He fought 
the impulse to bend forward and kiss those warm, visible monuments to her 
femaleness. But he waited, suffering the hungry torment, feeling the hunger 
and anger growing in his loins as if they were cursing him for being a fool 
and depriving them of what they needed and wanted most. He carried the coat 
to the vestibule closet and carefully hung it on a hanger. Then he went back 
into the living room. Jill was standing by the window staring silently out 
into the night with a fathomless expression on her face. For a split second, 
Matt thought she seemed terribly sad about something or the other, but when 
she turned to him, a warm smile lit up her features. "Make yourself 
comfortable," he said, nodding his head toward the immense ten-foot-long, 
cinnamon-colored bear skin couch in front of the window. 

Jill took his invitation at face value. She kicked off her high heels and 
curled up like a kitten in the corner of the couch, feeling the luxurious 
softness of its deep cushions, the absolute sensuality of the fur cover 
tickling her thighs and buttocks through nylons and dress. 

Matt came back with two snifters containing imported brandy. He placed them 
on the low cocktail table before her, then disappeared again. A moment later 
there was the far-off sound of music, and lights began to dim ... grew 
dimmer, dimmer, until there was only a soft, barely perceptible glow coming 
from the fixtures in the room. Matt loomed up beside her in the dimness. She 
felt the cushion sink downward from his weight. He held out a glass which 
she took. No audible toast was made, they merely touched glasses together 
and silently sipped. 

Jill's heart had begun to speed up its tempo as she realized that they were 
fast approaching a moment when she would have to make a decision about going 
to bed together. She became aware of movement on the couch, felt a gentle 
hand touch her shoulder, and an arm go around her waist pulling her closer 
to his body. She inhaled deeply and experienced a faint, unfamiliar but 
rather exciting odor of expensive, male's cologne. She allowed herself to be 
pressed close against a firm supporting chest and lowered her head against 
the gold buttons on the double-breasted blue jacket. . . felt their 
coolness, felt the sensual softness of the cashmere used to weave his 
jacket. 

Matt felt her warmly resilient body pressed tightly against his own, felt 
the firm, wonderfully alive muscles of her shoulder beneath his encircling 
arm, and smelled the fragrance of her perfume and hair. There was a slight 
tremor to that body. "Are you cold?" he asked, feeling protective and 
concerned. 

Jill lifted her head from his chest. Her slightly parted lips were only 
inches from his. She said nothing, but her marvelous blue eyes carried a 
message of trusting assent. Gently, very gently, Matt bent forward and 
touched his lips to hers. His body reacted to that first contact; it 
rejoiced with the sudden knowledge that this was going to be the best 
Goddamned night in a long, long, time. She was going to be good . . . 
perfect! And he'd make it perfect for her. He was going to play her like a 
flamenco guitar, bringing low and high notes of pleasure and fire and 
ecstasy from her .. . passionate, melodious notes that she didn't even know 
existed - notes she couldn't have experienced until touched by a master's 
hand. Whatever he did tonight would be good, as far as she was concerned, 
for he knew with a sure infallible instinct that Jill could be turned on if 
a man wanted to spend enough time building her up ... and he knew he would 
spend all night, if necessary, to make her realize what wonderful things 
could happen when a male and a female let themselves go. 

Matt continued to kiss her gently, but there was nothing gentle or soft 
about the throbbing ache in his sperm-churning balls, or the rising blood 
that pounded in his rapidly awakening cock and caused hot tingling 
sensations to race like lightening across its swelling head. 

Gradually, his kisses became more heatedly urgent. When his tongue sought 
her mouth, she opened readily to receive him. The soft strands of her hair 
tickled his ears, and they were surprisingly effective in intensifying the 
pulsating ache in his groin. Without removing his lips from hers, he took 
the glass from her listless fingers and put it on the cocktail table. Now 
that her hands were free, she immediately raised them and put them behind 
his head. She slowly moved her hand through his hair as though she were 
timidly fingering an expensive fur coat. 

When Matt began to stroke the satin skin of her shoulder and upper arm, Jill 
reacted by sucking on his tongue with a force that surprised him. Although 
his motions were designed to be gentle and comforting, her fingers moving at 
the back of his head and her hungry sucking of his tongue increased in 
urgency. He abruptly became aware that her knee, which had been halfway on 
the couch before, was now pressed against his mid-thigh; it was almost as if 
she were opening herself to him. And Matt instinctively knew that if he put 
his hand down to her vaginal mound right now, he would find that her tight 
little cunt was damp, warm, and slippery from her fevered impatience. She 
was ready now, he thought; completely ready . . . 

For a moment, when Matt had first taken her into his arms, Jill had fought a 
silent, but violent battle with her own conscience. She couldn't help it. 
She couldn't! A woman needed this. Her body demanded this . . . and it had 
been over a year since her husband had last made love to her . . . there had 
been no one else in all that time .. . She wanted to be loved. She had to be 
loved! For a moment while she was sucking on his tongue, she wondered what 
it would be like to take his warmly throbbing penis in her mouth. Well, that 
was out of the question anyway. She had never done that with any man, not 
even her husband, Jack, before he had been killed by Rizzi's hired murderer. 
Still, though, the thought had stuck in her mind like a buzzing, persistent 
bee caught in a jar. 

The image of her doing that with her lips to Matt Grant had a tremendous and 
unexpected effect on her body. She could feel twitching, a hungering 
sensation deep within her abdomen . .. muscles that she hadn't known existed 
were making themselves felt and squeezing out a hot dampness from her 
vagina, moistening the smooth nylon crotch band of her panties . . . muscles 
that seemed to contract and relax in a maddening sexual rhythm. Her erect 
little nipples suddenly felt supersensitive under the rich cloth of her 
dress; her ripely full breasts seemed to be under tremendous pressure, as if 
they were being crushed, or conversely, about to explode. They seemed to cry 
out for freedom . . . for attention, and Jill fought the urge to take off 
her dress in order to be more comfortable. 

Matt continued to stroke her shoulder, aware now that her excited trembling 
had increased, along with an almost imperceptible, sexual rhythm of her 
moving knee against his thigh. He let his hand slide slowly and lightly down 
along the length of her bare arm; he was rewarded by the gentle to-and-fro 
movement of her elbow against his navel. There had been a renewed quickening 
of breath from her in just the last few seconds. 

Now was the time to begin the real preliminaries, he thought. He began 
sliding it along her back now, down, down, down, until he could feel the 
supple curve of pliant flesh where her buttocks began. She moaned for the 
first time when his hand rested there briefly. 

Matt brought his other hand up across the top of her shoulders and then 
gently dropped it until his fingers were resting on the firmly upthrust 
mound of her breast. He began to rub in soft little circular motions. He 
could feel her nipple, hard and erect, beneath the cloth. Jill gasped and 
stiffened, then abruptly, her tongue tried to drive itself down the back of 
his throat. Grant continued the caressing, but now his entire hand was 
making a circular massage of the soft, pliant mound. He could feel her naked 
warm skin at the top of the bodice, could feel the impatience of her 
voluptuous young body, and then his lingers surely slipped down the slight 
gap in the bodice and cupped her softly heated breast in the palm of his 
hand. The feel of her ripened nakedness there caused some of his gentleness 
to leave him. His wildly aroused cock was hurting - hammering and pounding 
as though it were some errant jackhammer that had gone berserk. With the 
flight of tenderness, Grant took complete command. His hand grasped the 
fevered flesh of her naked breast; and his widespread fingers captured the 
erotically hardened little bud of her nipple and painfully tweaked it 
between forefinger and thumb. His tongue worked back and forth in her mouth 
as though it were a wet, headless little penis fucking in and out. 

Jill was actually purring loudly, and occasionally excited mewling sounds of 
pleasure came from deep within her throat. So wonderful was that contact 
between hand and breast, that the didn't realize the zipper to her dress had 
been tugged down in back. Her first indication that this had happened came 
when Matt pulled her dress off her right shoulder to reveal her love-starved 
breast. His mouth pulled away from hers to begin moving slowly down neck and 
across shoulder; then, teasingly, his tongue quivered once like lightening 
against her painfully erect nipple. 

She moaned in loud and joyous ecstasy when the warm moist oval of his mouth 
tried to enclose the entire fleshy mound. His mouth sucked, his tongue 
licked, his teeth nibbled. And now her left shoulder was bare too. She held 
his head at her ripely straining breasts as though he were a small child 
feeding, sucking hungrily as though it were his last meal. An exaltation 
swept through her momentarily, but this was replaced by the sudden 
realization that his warmly searching hand had begun a gentle, easy stroking 
of her sensitive inner thighs. She held her breath as his fingers went to 
the waistband of her panties, swiftly moved past the elastic barrier, and 
slipped down her tautly trembling stomach - past the sparsely curling 
strands of her soft, pelt-like pubic hair - to come to rest at the very top 
of her wetly heated vaginal crevice. Then . . . slowly and tormentingly ... 
his hand moved lower, middle finger extended to part the blonde, thinly 
growing pubic hair, until his outstretched fingertip came into contact with 
the hot, slippery little slit of her cunt. 

Jill, without conscious volition, clenched her thighs together. She wasn't 
sure if she were doing this to keep him from going further... or if she 
wanted to just trap that wonderful hand up between her legs like that 
forever. But then that period of indecision passed almost at once, and she 
found herself beginning to tremble violently, while her low moans began 
sounding in her throat. Even above her mewls of salacious contentment, and 
the overpowering sensations his hand was bringing to her hotly quivering 
vagina, Jill could hear the small shrill protests of her battered conscience 
screaming at her mind and body. She did nothing because she knew it was 
already too late. She was incapable of moving away from his gently caressing 
hands, his warm wonderful mouth. Her love-starved loins and breasts had 
cried out for over a year to be caressed and touched and fondled. She loved 
the sure deft touch of his hand on her eagerly pulsating vagina; she loved 
the feel of the strange, bear skin couch against her own bare back and 
shoulders; she loved everything! And in spite of the lingering memory of her 
husband, she wouldn't stop him. Ever! 

Grant slowly worked his middle finger into the moistly quivering passage of 
Jill's love-starved pussy. He used thumb and forefinger to tease the hotly 
pulsating little bud of her clitoris, playing with it, twirling it between 
the fingers, bringing loud mewls of ecstatic pleasure from her heatedly 
aroused young body which was beginning to writhe in lewd anticipation of 
things yet to come. Her breath was coming in hoarse gasping pants now, in 
rhythm with his middle finger fucking in and out of her wetly steaming cunt. 
She had voluntarily relaxed her legs and spread her thighs apart as if doing 
everything to help him. A part of Matt's mind stood off to one side watching 
her in amazement. God he had instinctively known she was easily aroused - at 
least tonight - but she was already so hot that she was practically crying 
for him to fuck her. She needed cock . .. and felt to him as though she 
would go out of her mind if she didn't get a cock and get one soon. She was 
long since at the point of no return; she was completely subservient to him 
now. 

"Baby," he whispered, taking his mouth from the soft warmth of her breast, 
"I want you. I want to make love to you . .. to fuck you." 

Jill stiffened momentarily at the obscenity, but then chided herself. She 
had heard the word "fuck" from Victor and from Jack, and had used it in 
mental conversations with herself, so it wasn't that bad! And then, as his 
finger continued to play an arpeggio of lust against her sensitively 
responding little clitoris, she relaxed again and forgot any protest. She 
sat, eyes closed in rapture, with naked shoulders and head pressed tightly 
back against the fur-covered couch, her thighs wide apart, her feet standing 
on tiptoe on the rug as she sought to raise her knees and give him freer 
access to the whole passion-hungering valley up between her thighs. She knew 
that her body was on the threshold of a new awakening - a discovery of an 
almost forgotten land where unimaginably beautiful things could bloom and 
grow. And so, when Matt asked her once again, "Do you want me to make love 
to you?" Jill had caught his head in her hands and pulled his face close to 
hers. She stared deep in his eyes, feeling her heart pounding as though it 
were some poor frightened animal trapped in a cage much too small for it, 
and she breathed, "Oh . . . yes! Make love to me . . . fuck me, darling. 
Fuck me." She moaned loudly and abandoned herself, giving herself completely 
to this man who was a veritable stranger. 

Matt took his mouth from hers and leaned back from her trembling, ripely 
expectant body. His eyes feasted on the long slender legs and thighs covered 
by nylons, at the creamy upper thighs above the tops of her hosiery, at the 
yellow lace garter belt, and at her little white bikini panties pulled down 
just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of golden pubic hair above coral 
colored, wetly glistening cuntal lips where his finger worked at will along 
the slippery, moistly heated walls. 

Then, abruptly, the young widow felt his hands move away from her body. 
"What? What..." she began, stifling a plea to come back. She opened her eyes 
and saw Matt standing in front of her. Her gaze locked on the awesome bulge 
outlined in his pants where his huge elongated penis raged against its 
confinement. 

"Stand up, Jill," he said. 

"What?" She didn't understand. 

"Stand up, baby. I'm going to strip you naked." 

Her breath caught at this unexpected command, then - actually blushing 
because she was going to have to be a willing participant and not a passive 
one - she started up from the couch. When she stood fully erect, her dress - 
already off both shoulders, fell in a heap on the floor. Her naked breasts 
were there, shining in the half-light; her soft nylon panties were rolled 
halfway down over her smoothly curving hips. 

Matt gazed at her. She had an absolutely incredible body! Nothing he had 
ever seen before could top this! His voice surprised him; it sounded alien, 
hoarse, choked up with desire, when he said, "My God, you're beautiful." He 
took a step forward, kneeled in front of her and, with one quick sure 
motion, put out both hands and peeled her filmy white panties the rest of 
the way down over her lushly rounded buttocks, down the unblemished ivory 
columns of her thighs and her long tapered legs. He gently lifted her right 
leg and disengaged her foot from the panties, then took them off the other 
foot. 

His eyes focused on the sheer nylon-hosiery held up by the yellow garter 
belt and he decided to leave stockings and garter belt on her; the nylons 
would feel wildly sensual against his own naked buttocks when she wrapped 
those incredibly long legs around him. Still kneeling before her, he looked 
up .. . up ... up, past the tops of the hosiery, and saw the softly pouting 
lips of her cunt... all rosy and shining from her seeping vaginal juices. He 
thought about flicking out his tongue and licking her pussy while she was 
standing, but some instinct told him to wait until he got her lying flat on 
the couch with her legs spread wide. Even though he had made the decision, 
he still found himself raining kisses on her nylon-encased legs and thighs, 
working his way from calf to thigh. 

Jill stood there, legs apart, feeling spasmodic jolts of ecstasy surge 
throughout her nakedly aroused body. She could feel the moist heat of his 
lips through the material of the hosiery, could feel the cool rush of air 
playing over her sensually awakened buttocks and breasts. For some reason or 
another, she felt deliciously lewd, just standing here wearing only garter 
belt and stockings. But then she forgot everything when his hot lips came 
into contact with the naked flesh of her inner thighs and used his wetly 
quivering tongue to lick the inner part of her thighs from just above the 
point where the stocking ended to . .. to ... 

She stiffened as his hotly tingling lips suddenly leapt from thigh to navel. 
A wild, never before experienced excitement began to burn in her. His kisses 
were traveling over abdomen to hips and he was gently tugging at her hips to 
turn her around . . . obediently, she turned and now his lips were moving 
over the lower part of her naked back .. . and then to her slightly 
trembling buttocks. His warm eager lips and kisses on her sensitively 
responding flesh had started things happening in her body. She could 
actually feel her vagina contracting and releasing, push and pull, in a 
violent rhythm of love ... as if his penis were already deep inside her 
cock-hungry cunt, moving in and out. Her straining young breasts had begun 
to ache, and her wildly-aroused body was beginning to tremble 
uncontrollably. 

Jill had never felt so weak, so helpless before in her life. She stood 
there, waiting for whatever was to happen next, as Matt's lips left her 
buttocks and he stood up. He put hands on her shoulders and slowly turned 
her to face him again. Their mouths crushed together hungrily, and his 
tongue fucked rapaciously in and out of her mouth. Then, still 
French-kissing, he eased her down onto the couch. She sat then lay back, 
face up, as Matt spread her weakly trembling legs in the position he wanted 
them, and pressed against the back of the couch. 

Jill lay there, mesmerized, as the detective stood again and quickly pulled 
off shoes and socks, stripped off tie and shirt, and then dropped his pants 
and under shorts at exactly the same moment. She saw him standing there 
above her, just as naked as she, his face gazing down at her with 
unconcealed sexual hunger. Her eyes traveled down from handsome face to 
broad muscular shoulders, from flat belly to thick rigid penis that stood 
out proudly, like a knight's lance, from his curling patch of loin hair. 
Even as she watched it, it jerked as though it were trying to reach out for 
her. Its huge purplish head throbbed with an unbelievable virility. Once 
again she thought of taking it in her mouth and sucking, nibbling on it as 
he had sucked and nibbled so deliciously on her breasts. Her mouth, dry 
moments before, had begun salivating. 

"Do you like it, baby? Matt asked softly, watching as her body twisted 
seductively on the bear skin couch ... as though she were trying to grind 
the fur into the shadowy crevice between her buttocks. "Christ, he thought, 
the way she's looking at my cock almost makes me think she wants to suck it. 

"Yes ... oh, yes," she moaned. "I like it. It's . .. you're beautiful." 

Matt knew he was going to worm his tongue up into that delectable young 
pussy before he shoved his cock into it, and he deliberated the 
possibilities of a sixty-nine. But again, his sure infallible instincts told 
him that such a thing might be a little premature; later, definitely! But 
she'd have to be brought along. 

Jill was beginning to feel the fires of impatience when she saw him lower 
himself onto the couch beside her. His naked hip touched her rib cage, and 
she jumped as if seared by a branding iron. His head dipped once again to 
her painfully full breasts. She groaned as he took first one nipple, then 
the other, into his voracious hot mouth. He licked and bit and sucked until 
Jill wanted to scream out in delight. Wave after wave of pure sensation 
rippled throughout her entire young body. She could feel it from nipple to 
toes. 

Now Matt's head dipped lower, as he used his tongue to sketch a portrait of 
lust between breasts and belly button. He kissed and sucked and gently bit 
at the hotly sensitive areas where her hipbone served as an anchor for the 
supple flesh that flared out to become the buttocks, and his kisses rained 
over the sides of her ass-cheeks. 

Then abruptly, the naked young widow was aware that his moistly searching 
mouth was coming back again to the front, and that he had moved down until 
he was kneeling between her thighs. His tongue flicked once at her navel, 
then teased a straight uninterrupted line to her pubic hair. He breathed 
hotly into the softness of the sparse blonde curls, and it was at that 
moment Jill realized what Matt Grant was going to do next.. . knew the 
target of his fevered lips and tongue. 

"No," she said, and attempted to sit upright. "No ... you mustn't." 

Matt heard her words; they sounded sincere, and that caused him to grin 
inwardly because he knew now, positively, that she had never had this done 
to her ... for if anyone had gone down on her, she wouldn't be protesting; 
she would know how wonderful it was! He remained where he was, kneeling 
between her open legs, his fingers pressing into the soft warm flesh of her 
inner thighs. His eyes paid homage to the thinly delineated little mouth up 
between them, all pink and seeping moisture from the pair of cuntal lips 
pulsating gently on either side of it. It was the shrine, he the pilgrim who 
had traveled a long distance to pay homage to its succulent warmth. 

"No . . . Matt. .. please," she moaned. "You can't..." 

"Baby, just relax and let me do it to you. This is one of the most fantastic 
things a woman can feel. I'm going to kiss and lick your pussy until you're 
begging for it!" 

The salacious words and all they implied; the visual imagery of what was 
about to happen, caused Jill to begin shaking with a wanton, completely 
uncontrollable desire. She was about to be a participant in a degenerate act 
that was going to take place up between her helplessly spread legs . .. not 
only was she permitting it, but knowingly encouraging it to be done, because 
her love-starved, man hungry body was crying out for it. She knew that her 
vagina felt as though it were about to rise eagerly toward his lips at any 
minute. Shame, guilt, fear ... all disappeared under the tidal wave of a 
shameless lust that simply inundated inhibitions and morality. Nothing 
mattered any more. She wanted him to do it! His words had set fires in her 
loins, fires that rapidly roared out of control and vaporized willpower and 
conscience. She had never felt so completely at the mercy of a man before. 
She would consent to anything. Anything! Just so long as he did what he said 
he was going to do ... as long as he gave her relief and joy and happiness. 

"Oh Matt..." she whispered, then lay back, feeling the bear fur scratching 
against her naked shoulders and tickling the sensitive cheeks of her behind. 
There was a movement on the couch, then he said, "Lift your hips." Eyes 
closed, she followed orders and felt a large pillow being shoved under her 
expectantly quivering buttocks. Almost immediately, Matt began showering her 
tautly rounded belly with fervent kisses. His hot mouth moved hungrily up 
again to her breasts, then slowly down; his tongue flicking and quivering 
all over her upper torso. Jill was about to go out of her mind with lust and 
her hips had begun grinding lewd little circles around and around on the 
pillow beneath them as her head started lolling from side to side. Finally, 
in a voice she hardly recognized as her own, Jill moaned, begging, "Do it... 
do it to me, please." 

"Do what?" Matt asked, watching her lust-contorted face, feeling his 
massively pulsating cock about to explode from excitement. Christ, she was 
really turned on now .. . she was about to fly right off the couch, and he 
hadn't even started the preliminaries. 

"Lick me . . . like you said. Suck me until I cum ..." 

Grinning in triumph, Matt moved slowly and tantalizingly down her abdomen 
again. He was deliberately tormenting her, turning her heat up higher and 
higher. Her pelvis making little up-and-down motions as though a starving 
animal were blindly seeking something. Finally, not even he could stand the 
intolerable torment any longer, so he roughly spread her thighs even further 
apart, using his thumbs to separate her soft, hair-fringed vaginal lips, and 
then without warning savagely rammed his tongue deep into her cunt. 

"GGOOOOoooooddddDDD!" Jill screamed as his wetly quivering tongue slid into 
her further and further, and her shamelessly aroused body reacted with 
convulsive lurches. Her hands cruelly grasped his hair, as if attempting to 
rip it out by the roots. Seemingly, she was trying to pull his tongue, his 
nose, his entire face deeper, ever deeper, into her long-starved vaginal 
cavity. She heard herself screaming incoherently, babbling. Above the sound 
of her wanton voice urging him on, she kept thinking, "Oh, my God! How 
beautiful, how exquisite! Why hasn't this happened to me before? Why? Why? 
It feels so .. . so . . . wonder . . . fulllll." 

Matt continued his voracious sucking and tongueing of her hotly quivering 
young pussy, his hands slipping up over her belly to her melon-like breasts 
once more, cupping and squeezing them continuously while his mouth and 
tongue slaved away with the fervent invasion of her widespread cuntal lips. 
The vacuum created by his voraciously sucking lips made obscene noises that 
seemed to fill the room, and Jill reacted to the lewd sound as if it were 
the music of love - as, indeed, it was. She clenched and unclenched her 
hands constantly in Matt's hair as his wildly searching tongue scoured the 
hot vaginal hollow, then began to seek the tiny, pulsating bud of her 
clitoris. 

Jill shrieked with obscenely growing pleasure when he took the hotly 
quivering tip of it between his teeth and held it captive as his tongue made 
wicked, ecstatic little circles around and around it. 

Jill's head had begun to flail in total abandonment from side to side; her 
hips were thrashing up and down - around and around - as she sought to bring 
other erotic nerve endings into play with his moistly quivering tongue. 

Grant made an elongated oval of his mouth and began to suck with tremendous 
pressure, all the while moving his tongue downward along the warm slippery 
slit. He licked from clitoris to a point close to the anus, feeling her soft 
curling pubic hair teasing against his lips and cheeks: He tasted the rising 
need of her feminine secretions, the slightly building perspiration that 
brought tantalizing sheen to the crevice between her nakedly thrashing 
buttocks. 

Jill's wails of passion had become continuous now; she no longer attempted 
to make sense . .. only moans, groans, mewls, and grunts came babbling out 
her throat. During it all her mind was screaming, "Beautiful ... oh, God! So 
. . . beautiful . . . so bea . . . uuuuuu .... teee .. . ful." And suddenly, 
somewhere in the far-off limits of her consciousness, she was aware of a 
velvet electricity building up and moving - quietly and unobtrusively - like 
summer fogs creeping in from the ocean. Only this wasn't cool like the fog, 
this was warm and violent. She arched her body up, seeking to intensify that 
electrical feeling. 

Matt felt her hotly throbbing pussy grind up greedily against his face and 
heard the sound of her breath increasing in tempo; he realized then that she 
was coming close to orgasm now, and a part of his mind exalted with the 
knowledge. By God, he thought she's going to get the surprise of her life 
when she cums. The knowledge that he was licking her where no one, not even 
her husband, had ever licked her before brought new strength to his tongue. 
He began to orally fuck her, harder and faster, deeper and harder, faster . 
. . faster . . . faster, burrowing his long curling tongue far up into her 
lust-dilated cuntal passage. He was rewarded by a shrill scream of pleasure 
when he swirled and flicked his tongue around the inner walls - the 
sensitive, pulsating interior lips of her vagina. She was coming closer, 
ever closer, and so he slipped his hands beneath her wildly undulating 
buttocks - cupping them in his hands as though they were some sacrificial 
vessel - and shoved his working wet mouth even harder up between her 
widespread thighs. He watched her face up between her ripely bouncing 
breasts and sank his teeth - not brutally, but savagely enough to bring a 
pain - into her clitoris once more, causing her to scream again ... an 
unholy shriek of pure animal lust as her lips contorted back over the 
whiteness of her teeth. 

Jill's wanton cries of passion filled the motel room. She had long since 
burrowed her frantically quivering buttocks down into the fur-covered couch 
- and she could feel each individual hair of it invading her buttocks, could 
feel them under her armpits, on the back of her sweat-slippery neck. If his 
tongue hadn't already been shoved deep into the hotly clasping interior of 
her vagina, she would have attempted to push the bear rug in there. 

Abruptly, Matt dipped down and began shifting his shoulders - first the 
left, then the right. He had them under her widespread knees now, and began 
levering them up until they were draped high up over his shoulders. The 
entire expanse of her helplessly inflamed loins was now bared in naked 
abandonment to his wildly thrusting tongue and voraciously sucking mouth. He 
thrust his tongue in deeper than it had, been at any time, and momentarily 
thought he could feel, with his tongue, the ending of her warm vaginal 
cavity and the hard protuberance of her cervix. 

Jill knew she was moaning like a helpless animal in heat, and she didn't 
care. Nothing mattered any longer except that wondrously fucking tongue 
which was carrying her to unsuspected heights of glory. Deep in her mind, a 
happy, ecstatic little voice kept crying out, "Oh Matt . . . thank you . . . 
oh, God . . . wonderful. . .good . . . good . . . ahhh . . . God!" She was 
peaking, rapidly climbing to that familiar pinnacle of sensation which she 
knew would result in an orgasm. The climb had been more wonderful than any 
she had experience before, and she knew she had long since passed the point 
of arousal where she had stopped with just a mere orgasm before. She had 
never been this aroused before, and abruptly, the kneeling man began doing 
something that drove her ahead of him . . . higher . .. higher ... higher 
into the forbidden rarified atmosphere of wild, uninhibited wantonness! 

Her smoothly rounded buttocks had been jerking spasmodically beneath his 
wetly driving tongue, her pelvis had been whipping up and down with 
superhuman strength against his face, and her groans had turned to moans 
which had turned to shrieks of unexcelled rapture, when Matt slowly slipped 
his tongue out of her desperately clenching vagina. He made one tentative 
lick at her clitoris, which brought another shriek of delight from her, then 
began a teasingly slow downward licking toward the tiny puckered ring of her 
obviously virginal anus. Jill gasped at the first searing contact between 
wet tongue and sensitive anal ring, her breath coming now in huge gulping 
swallows which rasped and whistled through her lust-constricted throat. She 
took a deep breath and almost swallowed her tongue when her errant mind 
finally realized what Matt was about to do. Now her conscience really 
screamed at her; this was filthy, degenerate, vile and perverted. It was 
sinful, the ultimate sin! And even as her conscience cried out in dismay and 
protest, her hungry, traitorous loins had ground eagerly upward of their own 
volition so he could bring his tongue into seething wet contact with the 
tightly puckering anal opening. 

Matt wasted no time; he thrust his tongue into the little brown orifice and 
was rewarded with an uncontrollable quivering of her naked body as she 
raised her pelvis off the bed in an effort to give him additional depth and 
working room. He licked and sucked and continually rammed his tongue into 
the tiny, rhythmically flexing hole which gyrated in wanton abandonment. 
Now, across his shoulders, her thighs had begun to quiver spasmodically and 
her heels beat a tattoo of rapture down on his spine and buttocks. 

She was close, he thought, so goddamned close that he could stop right now 
and she'd still cum without another thing being done to her. Let her cum! 
Let her cum first by tongue, then by cock. His throbbing rod of flesh soon 
had to have relief or his sperm-bloated balls would swell up and explode. He 
began to drive his tongue harder and harder into her anal passage, all the 
while exciting her hotly erect clitoris with one hand and kneading her full 
firm breasts with the other. Abruptly, he heard her breath catch in what he 
knew was the beginning of the onslaught of a climax. Drawing his tongue out 
of her tightly puckered anus, he returned it to her saliva and 
moisture-drenched pussy, and used his mouth and tongue to orally fuck her 
while his nose scraped and rubbed her clitoris. That did it! 

Jill writhed and squirmed beneath the insanely licking tongue until she no 
longer had control over anything. She took a deep breath as nerves began 
shorting out in her abdomen and a glow began somewhere in the area of her 
hotly pulsating vagina. The glow did not remain a glow for more than a 
second; it was merely the beginning of a fire and earthquake which began 
wracking her love-starved loins and belly. The earthquake moved rapidly up 
the scale, and suddenly she knew there was no longer any doubt about it. She 
was cumming! Cumming in his mouth. She was cumming! 

The scream was unearthly - half-human, half-animal - and it ripped from her 
lust-contorted throat as though she were falling in space, toppling end over 
end toward the jagged rocks. "I'm cumming .. . Matt. .. Matt.. . MATT! I AM 
. .. CUMMMM . .. ING!" She locked her hands behind his head and used every 
bit of muscular power to shove his wonderful, pleasure-giving tongue and 
face further and deeper into her wildly convulsing genitals. Her love juices 
actually spurted out - as though she were ejaculating in his mouth - and 
then began to flow copiously from her throbbing hot cunt. The viscous liquid 
of love inundated Matt's face and tongue and, escaping his voraciously 
sucking mouth, began flowing down from pussy to wetly glistening anus, where 
it dropped against the pillow and gathered in a warm liquid pool on the 
fur-covered couch. She continued to wail in rapture as the mercilessly 
pounding earthquake began to diminish; within seconds it had gone, but now 
dimly within her body she felt the roaring tidal wave of sensation cresting 
and breaking over her. Her delighted, almost incoherent scream told the 
story, "I'm cumming again ..." 

Surprised, Matt felt the naked young blonde widow's body begin twitching 
uncontrollably once more. The second orgasm had hit within seconds of the 
first. "Jesus," he said to himself, "she really was turned on." And then his 
surprise deepened even further for Jill obviously was cumming a third time 
... all three climaxes occurring within less than a minute. 

Somewhat in awe of what he had done, and a little apprehensive, he pulled 
his flushed, glistening face away from between her thighs and said, "Save 
some for me, baby." 

Jill heard his voice from far, far off. The earthquake, the tidal wave, both 
were fading slowly. It had been so violently exquisite, so perfect. She felt 
her legs being lowered from his shoulders, and, with a sigh of satiated 
exhaustion, she dropped her arms and let her head fall loosely back. 

Now her hips were being lifted as the pillow was removed. Now, the fur was 
softly scratching her buttocks once more. But even as she did this, there 
was a velvet expectancy once again in the deeper depths of her stomach and 
vaguely she perceived that she was cumming again - only this tiny one was 
merely an aftershock, a little present from her body, a song, a memory, a 
poem to his tongue... small, but delightful. 

Matt looked down at her sweat-streaked nakedness. She was taking deep, 
shuddering breaths of exhaustion and satiation. His apprehension returned 
again. She looked as if she had been fucking all night and was too tired to 
go again. He hoped her energy hadn't been depleted completely; he'd like a 
little life in her tight little pussy when he shoved Ins painfully throbbing 
cock into it. He lifted himself on his knees and moved up until he was over 
her body. "Jill... did you like that?" 

She heard his voice and then, abruptly, she was inexplicably weeping. The 
tears had completely inundated her eyes, and they were already flowing down 
her cheeks to splash on the bear fur couch. God, he had made her feel so 
vitally alive, so beautiful. .. and she knew now that she had missed so much 
out of her life in the past because of her own ignorance. Jack had wanted to 
do this to her once and, frightened, she had refused. He had never tried 
again. She sobbed loudly. 

Alarmed, Matt asked, "Jill. . . is everything all right?" 

Now she opened her eyes and gazed lovingly up at his face looming above her. 
She made no effort to answer at first, merely reached up with both hands and 
pulled his face down to her. She kissed him eagerly and in appreciation. She 
tasted her own cum, her own vagina wetly covering his lips. After a moment, 
she released him with the statement; "Oh God, darling, it was . .. was . .. 
beautiful." And even as she said it, she realized how impotent that word 
"beautiful" was when it came to expressing her true feelings. "Matt... I 
never realized anything could be so ... so ... " She couldn't finish. 

Matt grinned in relief and satisfaction. "It's going to be even better 
because I'm going to fuck you now. I'm going to put my cock where my tongue 
was a moment ago. It wants to fuck you ... I want to shoot my load of cum 
deep in your belly, baby, deeper than anyone has ever been before. What you 
just had was only the beginning. You do want me to fuck you, don't you?" 

His lewd obscenities were an aphrodisiac to her. Sensation was rapidly 
coming back to her vagina, and it was with complete and utter bewilderment 
that Jill realized her earlier hunger had returned tenfold. She wanted more 
of him, and so she told him using his own language, "Yes. .. fuck me . .. 
fuck me harder and deeper than I've ever been fucked before." 

"Put it in for me," Matt ordered, lowering his lean, powerful hips toward 
her nakedly expectant body. 

Jill paused a moment, then reached down between them for his penis. She 
found it immediately; it would have been impossible not to find it, as large 
and as hard as it was. She thrilled as her fingers wrapped around the hot 
throbbing flesh. She could feel every muscle, every tendon, every beating 
vein in that godshead. She enclosed it tightly in her fist, then stroked it, 
moving the pliant hot flesh up and down on the inflexible shaft. She was 
pleased when he moaned with delight from the touch of her hand and fingers; 
she wanted to delight him, to repay him some way. There were a lot of things 
she supposed she could do, but she had no knowledge of what he would 
consider dirty... or unacceptable. Besides, the heat was building up rapidly 
in her loins. Her heatedly pulsating vagina wanted his long hard penis in 
there - wanted it in the worst way! Even now she imagined she could feel it 
sliding down through her waiting slipperiness . .. 

She stroked the thick bulging rod two or three more times as Matt's hot 
lips, still tasting of her own orgasm, came down again on hers. Then she 
guided the lust-swollen cock-head toward her wetly waiting vagina. 

Matt lowered his body a bit more, and his massively erect penis tickled 
against her pubic hair. Jill pushed down on it and felt an indescribable 
jolt of pleasure shoot through her abdomen and inner thighs as the huge, 
searing head touched the sensitive, still-flooded lips of her pussy. She 
used the hot bulbous tip to draw little circles of ecstasy around and around 
her moistly quivering cuntal lips; she moved it up and down, feeling it push 
deliciously against her once again erect clitoris. She even pushed it down, 
downward until his massive thickness came into contact with her tiny 
puckered anal ring. She didn't leave it there for more than a split second; 
that was something expressively forbidden, and she could not let her mind 
dwell on the possibilities. Now she moved it rapidly up and down her 
moistened fur-lined vaginal slit, feeling almost as if she were 
masturbating. 

Matt was groaning with impatience. He felt her stroking his eagerly 
throbbing cock - sometimes rapidly, almost frantically; other times slowly, 
questioningly, as though she had never been asked to put a man's cock into 
her cunt before and didn't know what to do. Once, he was almost positive she 
was hinting that he should push it in her rectum, but that impression had 
been so brief that he assumed he was wrong. Anyway, he thought, if my prick 
isn't in your asshole shortly, sweetheart, you can bet that I'll have at 
least two fingers pushed in there reaming the hell out of you! She continued 
to stroke him, and it was so pleasurable that Matt decided to put an end to 
it before she used up some of his strength. "Open your legs as wide as you 
can and put it in, now," he demanded. 

Jill sighed, closed her eyes in rapture, and then centered the tip of his 
cock at the opening to her wetly throbbing vagina. Although she wanted him 
to go deep and hard, perversely she heard her own voice saying softly, "Do 
it to me slow . . . and gentle . .. make it last forever ..." 

Because he wanted it to be perfect for her - this first time, at least - 
Matt curbed his own hot impatience and was gentle. 

Jill felt the head of his massively heated penis pressing in at her vaginal 
opening. Reluctantly, her fingers left the warm trunk of the wonderfully 
pulsating instrument. The pressure at her tightly stretched cuntal lips 
continued for a moment, then gradually increased in strength until, with a 
slight wet popping noise, the lust-swollen head slid up inside her. 
"Ummmmm," she crooned, "beautiful." 

Matt felt the velvet warmth of her pussy enclose the head of his cock. It 
was much tighter than he had suspected, even though his tongue had scoured 
out the region just moments before. Then he quit thinking and let sensation 
take command of his nerve centers and body control. Jill had begun a slight 
little squeezing, sucking motion with her cuntal lips. She wasn't doing it 
on purpose; it was as though some genetic memory handed down through 
centuries of inheritances had told her wetly quivering pussy exactly what to 
do. To Matt it felt as though her deeper abdominal muscles had begun 
rippling, carrying his cock in deeper, deeper, ever deeper into the hot 
heart of her love-starved womb. 

Jill, widespread knees bent almost double, had both feel planted on the 
couch. As the first delicious sensation passed and there remained only the 
feel of his heatedly throbbing cockhead stuck about an inch into her 
wide-stretched vagina, she began to long for more depth, for friction, for 
movement, for ... for ... She put it into words, "Fuck me... " Using her 
feet and leg muscles, she raised her hips tentatively from the couch and 
discovered that the movement caused his desire-hardened penis to slide in 
another inch or two. "Ohhh, God," she chanted, " ... so ... wonder .. full." 
She dropped her hips and his thick male hardness slid out until only the 
heavily pulsating head remained buried between the lips of her cunt. She 
raised and the long hard shaft moved in further ... fell back, and felt it 
partially withdraw. 

Amused, Matt grinned down at these first little movements which betrayed her 
intense hunger; he was laughing mainly at himself for his earlier stupid 
uncertainty over whether she had any energy left or not. Christ, he thought, 
she's got enough fuel left in that hot little pussy to put us both into 
orbit. Then, she pushed up her pelvis again, moaning this time in 
frustration, and Matt decided it was time to end the game. Slowly . . . very 
slowly ... he pushed his thickly impatient hardness inward. It slipped 
easily through the inner muscles, up through the warmly clasping walls of 
her vaginal passage, and pushed against the very entrance of her belly up 
inside. 

Jill's eyes rolled back in her head from the sheer rapture of the slow 
entry. She had never believed that a penis' first thrust could be so 
heavenly; but then, of course, she had never been so aroused, so lubricated 
before, either. Up ... up ... up into her it went. She exalted with each new 
territory invaded. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Matt was in 
his full hard length. She could feel the bristles of the short hair on his 
softly swaying testicles tickling her overly-sensitive anus. She could feel 
the massive cock-head buried deep inside of her, throbbing imperiously 
against her cervix ... could feel every fleshy, muscular little ridge of his 
maleness pressing against her hotly quivering vaginal walls. And over it 
all, she could feel overwhelming contentment and happiness. 

Matt began to withdraw slowly, then thrust inward slowly again. He was 
moving in and out of her tightly clasping pussy with his eyes closed in deep 
appreciation. God, he had never before in his life felt a cunt that fit so 
perfectly around his cock. She was milking him with her inner vaginal 
muscles; One set worked on the heatedly throbbing head of his penis, 
squeezing it then releasing it, squeezing, releasing, until he thought he 
would go out of his mind; another set of muscles, somewhere in the area just 
below the inner lips of the vagina, were moving sideways back and forth 
against the sensitive under part of his shaft... ah of this going on at the 
same time she was rising to meet each of his thrusts. 

Jill realized that somehow or another, automatic reflexes had taken over her 
body .. . and that was fine, because she was able to concentrate on feeling 
. .. pure sensation, pure feeling! She felt sphincter and abdominal muscles 
working, hips rotating up against his hardness, felt her fingers kneading 
Matt's powerful shoulder muscles ... felt all this, but did not will any of 
it to happen. Her body was alive with sure, independent motion; her brain 
could relax and let the incredibly wonderful sensations roll over it. Time 
simply dissolved into nothingness. She didn't know how long those slow, 
gentle, maddeningly beautiful, strokes had been plowing into her, but 
gradually she began to feel that it was not enough. She wanted more, and put 
her request into words, "Fuck me harder now, Matt. .. fuck harder." 

That suited him just fine. It had been fabulous - this fucking in slow 
motion, but it had been terribly distracting as well. She was almost making 
him cum through use of her vaginal muscles alone, and he really hadn't had a 
chance to get in a little energetic fucking yet. "All right, baby. You want 
it harder, you'll get it harder." 

Abruptly, he reached down and locked his hands beneath her thighs and lifted 
them until her kneecaps were pressed tightly back against her tits. The 
attractive young widow's eyes had widened at this unexpected occurrence; she 
had no way of knowing that this one particular position would add at least 
two inches to his thrusts into the heart of her womb. She felt a momentary 
twinge of embarrassment at the fact that her genitals were raised helplessly 
in mid air, but that faded instantly when Matt grunted, "Here it comes, 
baby." He pulled the wetly glistening shaft out until only the head remained 
locked between the wetly clasping cuntal lips; then slammed down, down, down 
- his long hard cock burrowing far deeper into her than her own husband had 
ever been before. 

"AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH," she screamed in sheer exaltation as his massive erection 
slammed against the tip of her cervix and went on beyond this deep into the 
center of her belly. God, he was in so deep that it, seemed the tip of his 
cock was lodged midway between navel and breasts. He was in further than she 
had ever been fucked before. There was almost seven inches of long, hard, 
hot flesh inside there, inside her, throbbing away like a second heart. Her 
vagina felt stretched beyond repair, filled far beyond its limited capacity. 
And yet, even as she was thinking all this, she could feel her deeper inner 
muscles welcoming this invader. One eager little muscle jumped and twitched 
against the glans, another rubbed continuously against the corona; and she 
thrilled at his groans of appreciation and delight. 

Now, clamping his mouth wetly down over hers, Matt began a slow, fucking 
motion between her thighs. Each new powerful thrust inward went to new and 
previously unexplored depths of her moistly quivering pussy. The blunted 
head of his cock soon was master of it all, and with each jerking throb, it 
was a little cannon making tiny explosions which seared her soft, sensitive 
flesh. His motions soon widened the narrow, pliant passage, and every stroke 
- either in or out - brought an abject groan of sheer lust from her throat. 

Matt, hearing her mewls of subservience, began pounding into the naked young 
widow with a fury he did not realize existed. His hip bones crashed into the 
back of her thighs with each stroke, and his sperm-laden testicles smacked 
into the trembling white smoothness of her upturned buttocks like a 
battering ram. He wanted to hear her cry, "Uncle", he wanted her to know 
that she had been fucked as she never had been before . . . and, somewhere 
in the back of his mind; he knew he was accomplishing these things, and the 
real reason for doing all this was not egotism, but the desire to bring 
pleasure to her so she would want him to fuck her again and again. 

Jill had long since stopped thinking about her dead husband and what was 
being done to her; she was too busy trying to find new avenues of enjoyment, 
new sensations by twisting her pelvis first one way then the other. She 
found by clenching her bowel muscles that she could bring her clitoris into 
continual contact with that hard pulsing flesh pistoning in and out of her 
being. She had surrendered totally to this stranger lying between her open 
legs, and she unashamedly worshipped that hot part of him that skewered so 
wetly, so powerfully into her. 

Her body was beginning to wantonly twist and writhe now, and her sounds 
became one long sustained mewl as she groaned into his mouth and worked her 
tongue deep into his throat. She was an animal, she knew she was an animal, 
and she loved being one. She was also servile, accepting anything done to 
her, relishing the taint of masochism in her soul, wanting more ... more .. 
. more than she was getting. She was the portrait of pure wantonness: face 
wrung with passion, nostrils flaring like some wild female mare being 
mounted by a stallion, neck tendons taut as cables, eyes hot and smoky with 
lust. 

As if sensing her need for another new experience, Matt released her knees 
from her breasts; she immediately wrapped her long tapered legs around his 
naked buttocks and used her calves to pull him deeper into her. The federal 
agent slipped his hands down over her hips and slid them beneath the smooth 
rounded moons of her desperately thrashing buttocks. He cupped them harshly 
with each hand and began kneading them like bread dough as he fucked his 
long hard penis in with ever greater frenzy. 

Jill subconsciously flexed and unflexed her straining vaginal muscles as his 
fingers dug deeply into the creamy, supple flesh of her ass. Her jerked her 
harder up to his massive, driving hardness, and she spread her nakedly 
trembling thighs even further, inviting him to do what he willed as the hot, 
moist hole of her cunt spread open in obscene welcome. He pounded into her 
with a fury, then - without warning changed technique again and began making 
smooth, longer strokes that drew his cock nearly all the way out of her 
hotly clasping vagina before plunging forward again into her uplifted loins. 
It was then the young blonde felt his right hand stop its kneading motion on 
her ass and begin moving into the sweat-dampened crevice of her buttocks 
itself. His outstretched middle finger started to tentatively worm its way 
into her defenseless, tightly puckered little hole. 

He pressed inward and she felt the soft, rubbery flesh down there yield 
reluctantly. "Ohhhhhh, God, that hurts," she said, twisting her nakedly 
straining buttocks in an effort to get away; the motion was hopeless, 
though, for his cock had her firmly impaled. The groan bubbled from her lips 
in pained protest as his extended finger continued its unnatural invasion of 
her rectum. "Eeeeeeaaahhhhh, don't . . . Matt." 

He thrust even harder, and now she saw the cruel smirk on his handsome face 
as he took pleasure in hearing her sounds of subjugation. 

"AAAAGGGGHHHH," she cried, as her defenseless little anus received another 
thrust. 

Matt, however, was not about to withdraw his finger. He could feel the warm 
rubbery resilience of her rectum, and he could also feel the quivering 
muscles in there which gave lie to her protests. She didn't know yet, but 
her body was really enjoying the almost brutal fucking he was subjecting her 
to. Soon, and it was only a matter of seconds, she would be begging. He 
began working his finger around inside, stretching the puckered little anal 
ring ever wider and wider as his mercilessly pistoning cock brutalized her 
wide stretched vagina. 

Jill felt a second finger poised at the opening to her back passage, then 
it, too, was inside - working in unison with the first finger ... in rhythm 
with his rapidly thrusting penis. The deep guttural protests coming from her 
chest gradually began changing from whimpers of pain to low moans of new 
increased pleasure as her backside became used to this strange invasion. 

Within seconds she was shamelessly grinding her anus back onto his fingers 
as he probed them methodically around in the warm, rubbery depths. New 
sensation of lewd delight rippled through her abdomen and up her spine. She 
knew she was hopelessly impaled and helpless between the hard driving rod of 
flesh buried deep in her womb and the cruel, merciless fingers that wormed 
in and out of her behind. 

She was squealing like a stuck pig, twisting and writhing in wildly 
abandoned wantonness under this double rape of her naked loins, when 
suddenly she knew she was about to cum. She fought her own body against the 
orgasm; she didn't want to cum . . . not yet. All this was too beautiful to 
end, to change. She tightened up all of her muscles, but that only 
intensified the hot all-consuming vibrations that were beginning to 
reverberate like a gong deep in the pit of her stomach. 

Matt felt the change in her body, felt the sudden heating up of her wetly 
clasping vaginal passage, and knew she was rapidly approaching a climax. 
Beneath him, Jill had begun to chant, "Oh, oh, ohhhh," with each breath. The 
knowledge that she was about to cum caused his own excitement to build to a 
fever pitch; he wanted to cum with her, at the same time. There would be 
more later, he knew that for a fact; he felt he could cum a hundred times 
with her, could fuck all night, all day, all week - forever! And so, he 
slipped his fingers from her tortured anus, and quickened the rhythm of his 
pistoning thrusts, grinding hard and deep, boring persistently into the 
hidden recesses of her pussy. 

Jill's senses were rapidly leaving her now. 

There was nothing left except that exquisite pressure building up in her 
loins; she was only vaguely aware of Matt's lips leaving her mouth to clamp 
hotly on her right breast, of the feel of his heavily swaying testicles 
hammering at her ravaged anus, of his hands moving across her abdomen to add 
additional titillation to her erect little clitoris. The pressure of the 
impending orgasm almost frightened her in its intensity. It was death! She 
would die from it. This was it! 

"Ohhhh, Maa . .. tt," she wailed, "fuck harder . . . I'm cumming . . . I'm 
cumming . . . againnnnnnn ... !" 

She punched her nakedly writhing hips up, seeking one last ecstatic thrust 
before the dam inside of her broke. His hotly throbbing cock was a huge 
battering ram slamming into the portals of all her sensitivity, and the 
vibrations from the blows made her tingle from every follicle of her golden 
hair to the tip of her toes. This all had to be a dream ... it was all to 
beautiful to be true. Then, gradually ... the dam crumbled and the wave of 
ecstasy was flooding down over her. 

She screamed loudly, "Ooooohhhhh, God! I'M... I... I'M CUM . . . MMMMM . . 
.-INNNNNGGGGGG." She jerked upward once with superhuman strength, then fell 
back, wantonly convulsing on the fur covered couch. Her frantically 
quivering legs beat against the softness of the cushions, and her breath 
came in hoarse rasping gasps as the violent, but exquisite, seizure rocked 
and wracked her ripe young body. She felt, momentarily, that she was one 
gigantic vagina ... cumming, cumming, cumming ... that every part of her was 
part of it, and rejoicing. Even above her own pleasure, however, was the 
sudden knowledge that the beautifully pulsating staff that had carried her 
to this peak of glory was pumping hot, thick spurts of male sperm far up 
into her quivering belly. His hot liquid message of love mingled with her 
juices, and they formed a pool of bliss that shimmered and shone in the 
no-longer-lonely void of her uterus. 

Her heart, was pounding as though it were about to leap from her breast and 
a great lassitude akin to death, itself, swept over her. Her legs went limp, 
her hands fell to her side, and with the last vestiges of her rapidly fading 
consciousness she felt her vagina still quivering, still attempting to pay 
homage to the heatedly throbbing shaft of love still buried deep, deep 
inside. She was fainting .. . perhaps even dying, she thought... then simply 
let go ... let it all go away ... and drifted, drifted into sweet oblivion. 
Her last thought before the darkness came was, "Now ... I know .. . " As for 
Matt? He stared unbelievingly down at Jill's nakedly unconscious figure. 
Christ, what was there about her that had caused him to get so hot? Always 
before with other broads he had been able to control his own passion, but 
not with her! Even now, asleep, her vaginal muscles continued to twitch 
occasionally around his pleasantly satiated cock. He honestly couldn't 
remember when he had cum as much as he did with her. He had flooded her 
womb, and it had poured out of him and out of her as though someone had 
forgotten to turn off the tap. And his own reactions to all this bothered 
him; they were alarming thoughts - things he really didn't want to think 
about. He had wanted to fuck her ... had wound up making love to her. 
Staring at her now, he felt only a great and bottomless gratitude to her and 
that wonderful young pussy. Most alarming of all, though, was the knowledge 
that he wanted to keep her, to protect her from Rizzi and his like, to give 
her all the things a woman like her deserved to have. 

Slowly, and reluctantly, he pulled his rapidly deflating penis from between 
her thighs, and it came out with a slight plop, and with it came a veritable 
river of their warmly intermingled cum. 

"Jill," he said softly. There was no answer. Gently, he picked her sensually 
ripe young body up in his arms and carried her across the room, and into the 
bedroom. He placed her, still asleep, on the huge round bed . . . then 
covered her nude body to protect it from the cold. 

Then, thoughts still churning about his own reactions to her, he lay down 
beside her, covered himself with the same blanket and fell asleep 

 CHAPTER THREE 

In the early morning light, Jill Foster stood at the window, listening to 
the restless surf and watching the countless gulls soaring effortlessly and 
in freedom. She could hear the incessant breakers and the shrill cry of 
hungry gulls and sandpipers but she was not really aware of them. She was 
deep in troubled thought. A light off-shore breeze plucked at the sheer 
negligee, and she was totally oblivious of the lovely picture she made. Hers 
was a cool, poised beauty. Yet she was far from calm in her mind. There was 
the very real problem of what she was to do from here on, and she could not 
dismiss it. 

She lit a cigarette and thought about the man asleep on the bed behind her. 
They were strangers, even though he had accidentally come to her assistance 
in a time of loneliness and need. He seemed honestly concerned and had 
released her from the bounds of a long suppressed sexual frustration that 
even she had not realized went as deep as it did. Last night had been 
wonderful beyond her wildest dreams, and she realized only now how much she 
had needed that love making - sex performed by someone who was a master at 
his craft. Never had she experienced such a fulfilling, rewarding feeling 
from a man. 

Crossing the room she took her purse from the bureau and counted her money. 
Four hundred and seventeen dollars. It was far too nice a day to stand 
brooding at a window. She'd get dressed and have her hair done. It was a 
mess after last night and she wanted to please Matt. She wanted to return in 
some small way all the pleasure he had given her. At least it would be a 
start. 

She showered and dressed, tailored slacks, sandals, a plain shirt open at 
the throat. Ruefully she realized things hadn't been planned at all well. 
The wardrobe she had packed was scanty. 

Then, taking her bag she closed the door softly behind her, and walked out 
into the bright, warm sunshine. 

It was an hour later when Matt awoke. Jill's absence did not overly concern 
him for he had been vaguely aware of her movements earlier as she showered 
and dressed. He was, however, curious. Besides his own natural curiosity, 
there was the puzzlement of the girl herself. He lit a cigarette, rubbed a 
hand across a stubbled beard, and padded naked into the shower. With him it 
was like that every morning. First the cigarette, then a shower to wash away 
the lingering cobwebs of the night before, and finally a cup of instant 
coffee. He turned the shower tap to hot, filled the coffee pot from the 
basin, and plugged it in. Carefully then, he adjusted the shower spray and 
stepped in. It had been a long time since he had felt this good this early. 
He began to whistle. 

* * * 

For a split second, as she entered the suite, Jill felt a deep sense of 
disappointment because Matt wasn't there to greet her. Then she heard him 
singing off-key in the shower. The edges of her mouth turned up in a small 
impish smile of delight, and the first zephyrs of anticipation were already 
blowing through her belly. 

God, she thought, I'm acting like nothing but a bitch in heat. She wanted 
Matt; she wanted him now, right now! There was a vast loneliness aching down 
there between her legs. There really was only one question to be answered: 
should she play hard to get and act coy, or take the initiative? 

She strode across the room and gazed out the window toward the harbor where 
half a hundred boats rode at anchor. They bobbed gently up and down; the 
motion was a completely sexual one, and the masts looked like thin eager 
penises jamming the womb of the sky. 

Abruptly, the young widow realized her hands were shaking and her knees felt 
rubbery; the moment for action or non-action had arrived. She could still 
turn back. Her face dimpled in sudden decision, and then she was almost 
frantically removing shoes, yanking down hose, stepping out of her 
expensive, blue tailored slacks, and taking off her blouse and brassiere. 
She wanted to be naked before he finished his shower. 

She stood in the center of the room, waiting for him. Her breasts had 
darkened, and her nipples had grown erect by themselves. She groaned as she 
ran a hand feverishly down over her pubic hair and felt the current of 
desire that shot through her. She flaunted her pelvis a couple of times and 
whimpered deep in her throat. .. like a bitch in heat, she thought again. 

When Matt still did not put in an appearance, Jill bit her lower lip 
indecisively and then tiptoed rapidly toward the bathroom. She opened the 
door. The steam hit her with a warm moistness. Through the fog, she could 
see his muscular body outlined in the glass door of the large shower stall. 
He continued to sing. 

Her eyes were flashing mischievously as she slowly reached out for the door 
handle. Then, quickly, she opened it and stepped inside. She couldn't have 
asked for a better set-up, she thought; there was the treasury agent, his 
hair all lathered up, his eyes closed . .. and not the least bit aware that 
someone had stepped into the shower stall with him. She choked back a giggle 
as she watched him - watched the white soapy suds running down his backbone 
to disappear into the crevice between his strong buttocks. Slowly, with a 
prankish grin on her face, she reached out for his long flaccid penis .. l 
Grant's first awareness that someone was in the shower with him came with 
the soft touch of fingers gently tightening around his cock. "What in hell," 
he shouted, jumping in sudden alarm and almost slipping. His eyes opened - a 
mistake, for the soap blinded him again almost immediately. He saw enough, 
though. 

There, as if a dream had suddenly materialized, was the naked golden body of 
Jill, her harvest moon breasts already wet, and a stream of water running 
down her belly into her silken pubic hair. She was laughing at his reaction. 

The surprised yelp came out of him, "Jill?" 

"Who else did you expect? Racquel Welch? After all, I am supposed to be your 
wife." 

He gasped, then choked as soapy water ran into his mouth, for Jill had begun 
to slowly move her hand back and forth on his rapidly awakening penis. A low 
groan of desire came squawking out of his larynx, and her delighted laughter 
hit his ears. 

Jill stepped up even closer to him and, still stroking his almost fully 
erect cock with her right hand, put her left arm around his waist. She knew 
she was getting her hair soaked. Too bad, she thought uncaringly; the 
hotel's hairdresser had worked almost an hour on it this morning because 
Jill wanted to look especially nice for him. Under the machinations of her 
fingers, she could feel life surging into his desire-thickening penis; it 
was a terribly sensual feeling as the soapy water caused her hand to slip 
almost without friction from head to base of the huge rod. She felt lewd 
excitement expanding up between her thighs as the hard living thing in her 
hand grew in size. Now it was elongated, sticking out in front of him as 
though it were the long, white-skinned neck of a turkey. "Hurry up and get 
the soap out of your hair and eyes," she said, beginning to feel impatient 
again and jerking his cock a couple of times in emphasis. 

Matt, who had been standing there with his eyes closed, let the wildly 
erotic sensations flow over his body. He could feel Jill's breasts and 
nipples pressing against his chest... but the best thing of all was that 
excruciatingly wonderful movement of her hand stroking his hardening shaft. 

Quickly he rinsed his hair and washed the soap from his blinded eyes. Then 
he looked at her. Even barefoot, she was almost as tall as he was. Her eyes 
were gazing unfathomably at him, almost as if they were daring him. Her 
moistly full lips - parted in amusement and, possibly hunger - were only 
inches from his. He reached out, planted his sinewy hands on her flaring 
hips, and gruffly pulled her to him. The new position made it difficult for 
her pliant fingers to stroke his penis, so she contented herself with 
holding it tightly in her fist-clenching and unclenching her hand in time to 
the rapid beat of his pulse down there. It was a maddening tempo, one that 
she found echoed in her own belly. 

Matt found his thoughts in complete disarray, but that did not stop him from 
shoving his eagerly quivering tongue into her wet open mouth. Her tongue met 
his, and teased and cajoled it until he was pushing it in and out of her 
mouth as though he were once again orally fucking her. They dueled this way 
for almost a minute, the water streaming down both of their faces. 

Jill was the first to break contact; when she pulled away her breath was 
coming in short, puppy dog-like pants. She looked at her hand gripping his 
soapy, wildly pulsating shaft and then pushed down on it so the wet 
glistening head of the penis was touching the upper entrance to her vaginal 
slit. He shuffled forward just a tiny bit, and she felt the hot, 
lust-swollen head slide against her dampened pubic hair and soap-lubricated 
clitoris. She groaned as a shower of heated sparks shot upward from her 
suddenly throbbing vagina into her belly. 

"Life is just full of surprises," Matt said, French-kissing her again. He 
felt the wild elation growing in him as Jill began sliding the hair-covered 
softness of her vagina along the top of his cock. She was tall enough that 
he could take her this way without undue strain on his leg muscles. She was 
obviously ready; he could put it in right now if he wanted. Her eyes were 
closed as her breath rasped out hoarsely. 

She did something with her pelvis and inner thighs which caused her wetly 
swollen cuntal lips to lock like a hot fleshy vise over his long pulsating 
shaft; she held him trapped that way as she began moving back and forth 
again. It was almost as if he were deep inside her. 

Amazed, Matt began running his hands up and down her soapy buttocks. He 
slipped his soap-slickened middle finger down into the softly yielding 
crevice and nudged her tight little anal ring. She jumped and her eyes 
fluttered open as he slid easily in almost all the way without inflicting 
any discomfort on her. 

The sensation of his soap lubricated finger working in and out of her rectum 
startled Jill. It had shot a nefarious jolt of forbidden pleasure through 
her. Before last night she had not even realized she was sexually sensitive 
there. She felt a dull sense of disappointment now as he withdrew it. Matt 
was doing other things with those big, capable hands of his; they were all 
over her, kneading her firmly ripened breasts as though they were bread 
dough, tweaking the nipples, stroking her abdomen in time to her own body 
movements. She was afire down there between her excitedly trembling thighs. 
She wanted him inside her. She said it, and the obscene words spilling out 
of her lips caused a certain amazement to register in her mind. "Fuck me, 
please Matt..." she crooned. It wasn't so much a command as it was a plea. 

His balls throbbed, and the blood had long since been pounding hotly through 
the thick veins in his rigid cock. Yet... he pulled his penis from between 
her tightly clenched thighs. "What's wrong," she asked, whimperingly. 

"Nothing. Let's not hurry it though." 

"I want you now." She reached for his lust-hardened penis enclosed it in her 
fist again, then began yanking on it in short impatient motions. 

Matt said nothing. He merely reached behind him and got the soap from the 
soap tray. He used the palms of both hands to raise a lather. The hot 
scented soap was almost an aphrodisiac in itself. 

Jill didn't protest when he began to lather up her breasts; she watched the 
white bubbly river run down across her navel and disappear down into her 
drenched pubic hair. Matt now was lathering up her abdomen and hips; his 
hands were gentle, and the electrifying sensations arched through her belly. 
Then he was using two outstretched fingers and the palm of his hand to soap 
up her vagina. She closed her eyes and moaned; her legs becoming so weak 
that she felt they couldn't support her any longer. Matt kneeled in front of 
her and used both hands to bring a white lather to her sleek inner thighs 
and legs. He ran his hands up and down her lower extremities as she hungrily 
screwed her pelvis toward him, wanting to feel his lips against her 
femaledom, but he avoided it.. . then began working his way up her backside. 

A part of Matt's mind stood off watching him operate. It was obvious the 
girl was just about to go out of her mind with lust. He knew that the upper 
torsos of some women became mottled, almost as if they were just getting 
over a bad case of measles, when they are within seconds of a climax. 
Anytime this mottling occurs on a woman, an orgasm is almost inevitable ... 
no matter what the man does or doesn't do. And Jill was that color now. 

Quickly then, he lathered up his eagerly throbbing cock and used his soapy 
hands on her abdomen. His fingertips brushed across the wet, softly curling 
strands of fleece up between her legs. He didn't pause there; his hand slid 
down even further, middle finger extended, and began caressing her wetly 
throbbing cuntal slit. 

Jill's naked young body almost jackknifed with the maddening contact of his 
finger sliding through the already fevered area. She began to moan in wild, 
inarticulate phrases, and her inner thighs tried to trap his hand and keep 
it captive. Now a second finger was making a slippery, lust-inciting 
intrusion, while his thumb toyed with her throbbing little clitoris ... the 
fingers all moving in unison. 

She had to have it. . . now! She was close . . . She wanted to feel that 
pulsating rod of hot flesh inside her, no longer content to be patient. 
"Please?" It was a craven croak of desire spilling out of her throat. 

Grant watching her and listening to her, reveled in the feel of her warm, 
velvet-soft pussy and the vibrating arousal of her goddess-like body. God, 
he thought, she's the hottest thing I've ever seen. She really wants it; 
she's so fired up that she's about to explode. 

"Jill, baby," he said very slowly, "Put it in for me." 

Frantically, she reached down for his soap slickened penis and pulled it up 
between her legs. She spread her thighs and pointed the hotly-throbbing cock 
toward the hungry opening of her vagina. She snaked her other arm around his 
waist and pulled him forward, guiding the long hardened instrument toward 
her eagerly awaiting cuntal lips. 

Her shamelessly aroused vaginal flesh opened and closed like a hungry sea 
anemone as she pushed forward with her pelvis as his thick shaft of hardened 
flesh sliced through her wetly clasping pussy and rammed deep into the soft 
milking interior of her belly. 

"Ahhhhh," she chanted, moving her wet, nakedly glistening body back and 
forth, feeling his cum-bloated scrotum swinging and teasing against her 
straining thighs. She reached down for his testicles and gently caressed 
them as she wildly whipped her pelvis to and fro - sliding her hungrily 
clasping cunt up and down on the massively heated penis sunk so deep up 
inside her. It all happened unbelievably fast. "Ahhhh? Ahhhhhhhhhhhh? AH! 
Aieeeee. I'm cumming . . . I'm cumming ... Oh, God, I'm cumming," she 
screamed. And then the young blonde was really in a frenzy, with her pelvis 
slamming so hard against Grant's hip bones that it seemed certain something 
was about to break. 

Matt's eyes had widened in complete surprise. My God, he thought, she had 
reached an orgasm within thirty seconds of the time his prick was first 
shoved in. He hadn't made one single thrust on his own part; she had done 
all the work! She swallowed with her mouth hung loosely open, and the sound 
of air panting in and out of her throat made almost an obscene noise of 
unmistakable satisfied passion. 

Jill stood there, trembling uncontrollably, as the orgasm drained away her 
strength. She was forced to lean against Grant; there was nothing left in 
her body. She was sure she had lost consciousness at the height of the 
climax for she had slumped, and the movement had caused his thick rigid 
instrument to slip out of her vagina with a wet, plopping sound that could 
be heard even above the hiss of the shower water and the deep gasps of her 
breathing. 

She felt an almost uncontrollable desire to go to sleep. This in spite of 
her mind swarming with thoughts like a disturbed wasps' nest. She knew what 
had happened; she had reached a powerful orgasm, and it had been just as if 
she had hooked into a high voltage line. 

"Are you all right?" Matt was looking at her with some concern. 

She closed her eyes and nodded. A moment later, Matt's hands were on her 
shoulders, turning her around so the soap would wash off. She was as 
obedient as a small sleepy child. Then there came the velvet-like softness 
of a wash cloth gently rubbing between her legs as it rinsed the soap suds 
from her still slightly pulsating cunt. She winced when the cloth - as soft 
as it was - accidentally brushed against her clitoris. The organ was overly 
sensitive now; any touch there was painful for the moment. Then the hissing 
hot water was turned off. 

Matt began toweling her dry, treating her as if she were an infant being 
dried after a bath. The roughness of the towel began bringing a new life to 
her body; it felt, she decided, very very sensual. Warm, comfortable, and - 
for the moment - satisfied, she permitted him to do anything he wanted. She 
even stood on tiptoe to help when he rubbed the towel between the wet cheeks 
of her ass. She was all too aware that he still had his mammoth erection, 
and dully she wondered if he wanted to be "relieved." 

Matt wadded up the towel and threw it into the corner of the shower. Then, 
without saying a word, he picked her up and carried her out of the stall, 
through the bathroom, and to the huge round bed. He carried her as 
effortlessly as a rag doll. Feeling like a little girl, she put her head 
against his hairy chest. She closed her eyes and gave herself to the 
sensation of his heatedly erect cock rubbing across her buttocks with each 
step he took. 

The federal agent put her in the center of the bed and stood looking down at 
her. She still had her eyes closed, and her ripely full breasts rose and 
fell like the surge of the sea with each breath. It was incredible, simply 
incredible, he thought. All this - mine ... for now. Once again, he wondered 
about her. She didn't seem the "hair trigger" type, yet - last night she had 
cum quickly ... and had continued to reach orgasm after orgasm, each one 
building on the other. And just now in the shower? She had been there within 
seconds after he had pushed his throbbing hardness between her warmly 
welcoming thighs. 

On the bed, Jill's eyes blinked open. She felt a great wave of tenderness 
well up within her as she gazed at the agent. It was something she had never 
felt before about any man. Those broad shoulders, that craggy handsome face, 
the fur-like hair on his chest. . . and that beautiful, beautifully long 
penis. 

She wanted that penis. She wanted to kiss it - to pay homage to it. Never 
before had she wanted to take one in her mouth, but then never before had 
one brought her such sweet rapture. Still lying on her back, she bent her 
knees and used the balls of her feet and shoulders to slip across the 
bedspread so that his thick pulsing cock was directly above her pouting 
mouth; it hung above her like a hardened sword. She was amazed at her own 
boldness, and her words sounded alien - almost unintelligible to her - when 
she said, "Mister Grant, put your penis in my mouth." 

His laugh rumbled out, "I'd love to have you do just that, Jill; but don't 
you think it's time to dispense with the formalities. My friends call me 
Matt." 

Jill suddenly giggled. It was funny. But then she stopped giggling when the 
"sword" dipped toward her lips. She reached up and caressed it, feeling 
every powerful ridge beneath the taut skin. Her eyes feasted hungrily upon 
it; she was beginning to understand many things. This, she thought, was the 
real staff of life. Her eyes were hazy - "smoky," coming from the fires that 
were being kindled within her, and the huge throbbing god's head was already 
oozing love from the eye of the glans. 

She licked her lips in anticipation, then cupped the bloated sac of sperm as 
though she were evaluating it. Her moistly parted lips kissed the underside 
of the moist head, and Grant quivered like a powerful stallion at bay. Then 
her wetly quivering little tongue lashed out, making maddening circles 
around the entire lust-swollen head of the penis. Her own nakedly aroused 
body reacted and trembled with a suppressed power. Sighing with pleasure, 
she opened her lips and moved her head forward so that the cock slipped into 
the warm wet cavern of her mouth. She began to suck on it, gentle little 
milking motions that came from an instinctive knowledge older than time 
itself. She thrilled to the residual taste of soap, his love secretions, and 
still another taste. "Could it be," she asked herself, "the taste of my own 
vagina?" And feeling as though she were somehow completing a circle of life, 
she took his thick pulsating hardness inside the velvet heated depths of her 
throat. 

Matt's hands dropped to her hair and pulled her penis-stuffed mouth even 
closer to him. She had begun running her tongue along the sensitive 
underside of his cock, and the sensations were causing great thunderheads of 
desire to build up in his belly. "Suck it," he panted, "suck on it, Jill." 
He lifted his right leg from the floor and, without pulling away from her, 
placed his knee on the pillow alongside her head. 

A second later, he was straddling her nakedly quivering breasts and kneeling 
above her face. He began jerking his loins forward in the age-old motion of 
fucking. 

Jill cupped his rock-hard buttocks in the palms of her hands. She liked him 
in this position; it gave her a masochistic pleasure to know that she was 
almost incapable of moving her head in any direction now except up and down 
on that hotly pulsating shaft. She slavered up and down, instinct telling 
her to use her tongue and teeth against the head. 

Grant slowly moved his pelvis back and forth so that her lips - like the 
voracious lips of a hot, hairless vagina - slid along the wetly glistening 
trunk. God, he thought in wonderment, nothing has ever felt this good 
before! She obviously was inexperienced in this type of thing, but the heat 
of her softly moistened mouth and the way she used her tongue was absolutely 
fantastic. He'd had blow jobs before from women; with Jill though, it was 
something else - something of a greater dimension. He knew he was going to 
cum soon, already his boiling cauldron of semen was beginning to seek 
avenues of escape. He put both hands on his hips and straightened his 
shoulders so he could look straight down at her as he sawed in and out of 
her eagerly sucking mouth. Her delicate pink lips contrasted with the angry 
blood-infused shaft which pistoned in and out between them. 

Jill, lost in a frenzy of delight, was only vaguely aware of his saying, 
"Better stop, or I'm going to cum." She merely sucked harder, wanting to 
taste his sperm, wanting that boiling eruption to flood her mouth. Yet,.. ? 
What would he think about her? Reluctantly, she unfastened her tightly 
ovalled lips from around his desire-throbbing cock. When she looked up at 
him, Matt seemed twenty feet tall - staring down at her as though his head 
were somewhere near the ceiling. He was breathing rapidly, and she could see 
his stomach muscles quivering as he fought for control. She swallowed and 
forced herself to say, "Do you want to cum in my mouth?" 

Matt fought a battle within himself. Yes, he wanted to cum in that 
wonderfully sucking mouth, but... at the same time ... he wanted to fuck 
her. Maybe, if she were willing later tonight, they'd get around to other 
ways. Right now, though, there was one thing he wanted more than any other. 

"I want to fuck you," he said firmly, then added, "between the legs!" 

"Oh, darling. Yes! Then do it now." Jill was amazed that the term of 
endearment was coming from her lips. She abruptly realized there was an 
unfulfilled feeling down in her hotly pulsating vagina; that feeling rapidly 
swept away all other desire. She wanted him deep inside her. she wanted him 
to be a part of her - and her to be part of him - both joined in fucking. 
"Now ... do it now. Fuck me, Matt." she repeated, and opened her legs wide 
to receive him. 

Matt put his hands beneath her knees and pushed them back until they were 
against the pillow. Her tight defenseless pussy was revealed beneath him; 
the outer lips a darker than normal color from her intense excitement, the 
inner lips pumping out a viscous lubricant, and the erect little clitoris 
engorged with blood and ready . . . ready .. . ready. 

Matt put the head of his wildly throbbing penis against the puckering wet 
opening of her vagina and pushed forward. His pulsating cock-head parted the 
still wet curls of pubic hair and slipped easily down through the two sets 
of sensitive cuntal lips. 

"OOOOOhhhh," she crooned, and her eyelids flickered in rapture. 

"You like that?" he asked, not really needing assurance, but wanting to hear 
her say it. 

"Oh, God! . . . yes. It's beautiful." 

Matt pushed in a bit further; he knew he had to take this in easy stages for 
the position was one which would permit him to go at least two inches deeper 
into her. Too rapid an entry would result in pain or injury. When he had 
gotten about three inches inside her, he began slow withdrawal movements 
coupled with tiny, controlled jerking of his cock. He felt a responding 
twitch from her heatedly clasping vaginal walls. 

"Ahhh ..." she panted, and tried to rock back and forth on the shaft of 
hardness impaling her between her legs. 

Jill could feel his scrotum tingling against her nakedly uplifted buttocks, 
and she reached down and around to fondle his balls with a fevered 
joyousness. Matt had begun moving in and out, and she was sure she had taken 
all he had, not realizing that he was less than five inches into her. She 
could feel the pulsating head of his thickened shaft pressing against her 
sensitive cervix, knocking at the door to her womb. His long hard penis - 
like hot iron had soft feathers - rubbed the rippling walls of her vagina. 

"Oooooohhhhh," she wailed, for now he was going even deeper. "You're 
hurting..." she began but then she felt his pubic hair tickling against the 
back of her thighs and knew that he was in as far as he could go. Joyously, 
she realized she had taken all of him; they were a perfect fit. Now his 
movements became masterful, she could feel him in complete command of the 
situation, and so she lay there, grinding her full rounded buttocks around 
in tiny teasing circles, as he pounded in and out of her sensually awakened 
young body. 

Her entire belly was afire as her mind screamed out its insane delight. She 
knew she had become a woman. She was really being fucked and she was 
responding as a woman - a hot, tempestuous woman, full of fire for this 
wonderful man. 

Matt was aware that she was approaching another explosive orgasm. Her 
nakedly writhing body was fighting him down there; it was as if he had 
hooked into a mighty game fish that was attempting to dislodge the hook. Her 
pelvis jerked and revolved madly, but there wasn't much she could do because 
of the position. It was then Matt decided to hold back his own climax and 
see just how much he could do for her. 

He clamped down on his sphincter muscles and began pounding into her with a 
demonic fury, screwing his massively throbbing cock even harder and deeper 
into her tight little cunt until it seemed her battered cervix would be 
dislodged. Her fevered passageways screamed for more, and the interior 
muscles of her madly rippling vagina clasped his plummeting shaft like the 
hungry tentacles of a starving octopus. Her anus clenched and unclenched as 
it seemingly sought to bite and devour his heavily swinging balls as they 
slapped in a ceaseless drum-beat of lust against her upturned buttocks. 

Jill tossed her head from side to side, her mouth open laxly, and her eyes 
focused in disbelief at her own knees rocking above her head. "Ohhh ... ohhh 
..." she said, with each mighty shove of his long hard cock into her. It was 
a chant, a liturgy of love, a song whose tempo speeded up as she felt her 
body taking over. "Ohhh ... oohhh ... OHHHh ... Ahhh!" 

Suddenly, Jill punched her pelvis up with almost superhuman strength, and 
her legs splayed out until it seemed as if she were splitting herself right 
down the middle. The scream of delight bubbled out of her mouth, "I'm 
cumming... Ohhh . . . AHHHHHHH . . . Aaaalllleeeeee . . . I'm cummmmmmm . . 
. ing!" She groveled beneath him, her fingernails digging long bloody 
furrows down his back before she fell lifeless against the mattress. 

Matt slowed his pace to the point where he merely bobbed in and out of her 
like the soft surgings of the tide. He knew he could bring her on again by 
continuing this gentle movement, and so he bided his time. A slow movement, 
gentle partial withdrawal; slow in, pull out. . . slow in . . . pull out. 

From somewhere way out beyond the further most planet of her emotional solar 
system, Jill's errant mind began returning to her body. The wild storm that 
had arched through the heavens of her nerves had moved on; now there was 
only the voluptuous, almost hypnotic, movement in and out of her contentedly 
throbbing cunt. 

Matt was aware of the returning sensations in her languidly stirring young 
body. Knowing she would soon be cramped by her present position, he released 
her captive thighs and pulled them down alongside his hips. She almost 
immediately lifted her knees and wrapped her long tapered legs around his 
thighs, her knees pressing in tightly against and partially around his 
slowly pumping buttocks. 

Jill was groaning - not a sound of pain, but of guttural wonderment - and 
the sound reverberated like an organ note from her throat. Jill couldn't 
believe what was happening to her; she had reached some beautifully high, 
wind-swept plateau - a land of pure sensation! She was cumming again! She 
reached up for his head, pulled his face down to hers and passionately 
kissed him, grinding her tongue into his mouth . . . and then she whispered, 
"I'm . . . cumming." 

This time her climax was different - just as powerful and strong, but more 
controlled. She found she could manage it - bring it along - play it and 
make it peak like a musical piece. But, only seconds later, she discovered 
that in reality his hot living shaft was the baton - that he was conducting 
the symphony of sensation - and she was only a player following directions. 

"Oooooh, God, Oooooh, God! So wonderful... so goooood!" she sang, feeling 
unwanted tears welling up in her eyes. She wrapped her arms and legs tightly 
around him, and pulled his hairy chest down into the soft voluptuousness of 
her breasts. She discovered that pulling him down against her caused his 
rigidly thick cock to ride higher against her clitoris. .. and a wild 
wantoness was on her again. "I'm cumming . . . again ..." she whimpered, and 
her nakedly orgasming body thrashed beneath his. 

Matt knew that in spite of all his control he was nearing the end of his 
efforts. His sperm-laden balls had begun to throb painfully, and suppressed 
excitement had swollen his massive shaft until his urethral opening was 
large enough to take a pencil. 

"I'm cumming ..." she screamed, once again, and her pleasure-contorted body 
jerked and twisted as though she were in throes of a seizure. Her face was 
twisted in a wild grimace of lust, and her mouth opened and closed 
ceaselessly as her nostrils flared like an untamed, wildly bucking animal's. 

It was time, Matt thought, and he plunged his long throbbing cock up and up, 
deeper and deeper into the squeezing warm cavern beneath him. He let the 
sensations flow up his thick hot shaft where they spread out through the 
scrotum and overflowed into his belly. 

Jill's forehead, face, and shoulders glistened with the sheen of sweat. Her 
breasts felt as if they were balloons being pumped full of hot scented air, 
and her vagina and uterus felt as if they were stuffed with thick electric 
eels, all throwing off electric charges . . .,and wiggling up deeper, ever 
deeper, into her innermost femaledom. She knew instinctively that each 
preceding orgasm had been like a higher step on a high diving board, that 
she had reached the top, and now there was a swan dive to be made into the 
warm waters of oblivion. There was nothing that could stop her from making 
the dive, and she knew Matt was suddenly fucking her like a mad man as he 
sought to join her dive. 

"Cum with me Matt... cum ..." she pleaded. "Cum with me ... in me ... " She 
wanted him with her because she was giving herself completely to him . .. 
something no man had ever had from her before. "Cum . . . my darling . . . 
please cum . . . !" 

And Matt, hearing the words, felt the dam gates slowly opening within him. 
He slid his hands under the wildly pumping cheeks of her ass and cupped them 
tightly - pulling them toward him for greater access to her wide-open and 
pleading cunt. He rammed into her with all his strength - wanting to give 
her everything he had and he could feel the smooth hot flesh of her tight 
little cunt massaging and sucking away at his rapidly expanding cock. He 
fucked into her, driving every last inch of his huge thickened shaft into 
the hot willing hole up between her legs. A cry started within her, and at 
first it sounded like the low moan of the Arctic winds blowing high in the 
heavens; the sound grew in intensity until it was the shriek of a typhoon 
leveling everything before it. "AllIIIIEEEEEEE ... I'M CUMMING!" She 
screamed, and it was the cry of a hawk diving from great heights. Her smokey 
eyes stared, unseeing, at things beyond both of them. Her frantically 
pumping buttocks waved in lewd abandonment from side to side, screwing her 
wildly quivering cunt up and .down crazily on his hard pistoning penis. 

The naked young blonde's wildly thrashing body triggered his own climax. He 
could feel the velvet explosion beginning somewhere around the spine and it 
spread rapidly to his balls. Matt increased the intensity of his strokes so 
that his scrotum swung like an iron wrecking ball against the trembling 
walls of her buttocks. 

Then he was there; its intensity frightened him for a moment, but he let 
everything go. Her arms had him in a deathlike grip, but he was still able 
to gasp into her open mouth, "I'm cumming . .. " Her words were almost 
incomprehensible when she panted, "Cum in me ... cum . .. dar. . . ling." 

Matt heard the whimpering moan from her and her knees flexing and unflexing 
powerfully back against his driving ass, as she sought to assist him. With a 
low moan of ecstasy, he exploded inside her, and the white hot lava of his 
love erupted deep down inside the wetly pulsating depths of her womb. 

His cock continued to spurt and throb for almost two minutes, then it 
gradually stilled. Deep inside her, he could feel her muscles loosening, the 
uterine walls deflating, the cervix returning to its normal position, and 
the vaginal lips twitching like the lips of a slowly dying fish. He opened 
his eyes and looked down at the girl; a soft, wondering smile was etched on 
her lips . .. she looked happy, fulfilled! He smiled gently as he watched 
the even rise and fall of her voluptuously ripened breasts at repose. She 
was asleep - so soundly asleep that she didn't even stir when he slowly 
withdrew his deflated penis. It came out with a soft hissing sound and with 
the stopper removed, a torrent of white, expended sperm began to flow like a 
river out of her gaping young cunt. 

Matt pulled the spread over her perspiration streaked body. Then, still 
naked, he walked toward the window overlooking the yacht club and stood 
watching the sailboats. 

Behind him, he heard Jill stir on the bed. One golden arm had come out from 
beneath the spread, and one delicious mound of breast flesh with its 
inviting little nipple that was uncovered. She was still asleep and 
apparently dreaming now, for there was a tender smile on her face as her 
lips opened partially and she whispered, "Matt.. . darling." 

He watched her. She had surprised hell out of him, but his biggest surprise 
had come with his own emotions. It was one thing to want to fuck a woman, 
quite another to feel a need to protect her and to want to share things with 
her. Christ, he was really going to have to watch his step! 

* * * 

The Empire Room of the Play a d'Ora was crowded when Jill and Matt arrived. 

Reservations, plus the fact that they were guests of the hotel, enabled them 
to be seated within ten minutes. Their window table offered a magnificent 
view of the sun setting behind the blue-grey shrouded Channel Islands. The 
English gin arrived in frosted glasses. 

Then Matt was left alone with Jill, with only the soft hum of other 
conversation in the background. She looked very female - very beautiful, he 
thought, and then told her so. She smiled softly in answer. Her hair looked 
like a golden waterfall frozen in mid-flight. Her oval face seemed softer, 
her lips fuller, her fine eyes a deeper haze. There was just the faintest 
suggestion of color high on each of her lovely cheeks. That, he was pretty 
sure, had come from his beard stubble during their second round of 
love-making after Jill had awakened. Her inner thighs would be the same 
color ... for the same reason. 

Jill, watching the candlelight dance on his face, thought he was the most 
handsome man she had ever known. She told him so; he grinned in reply. She 
couldn't get over how contented she was, how very secure and very complete 
she felt around him. She lifted her glass in a toast, "What shall we drink 
to?" 

Matt pursed his lips, then shrugged his shoulders, "To drinking?" 

"No, silly. To ... to ... " she closed her eyes, unable to force herself to 
say it. She wanted to say, "To us!" but that would sound possessive. 

Matt saved her. "To the rest of the week. May it be as pleasurable as its 
beginning." 

She nodded, touched his glass, then drank. She sat back in her chair - 
completely relaxed - and let the sensations wash over her. Every single pore 
of her body was alive and singing. God, she felt so alive! She could spend 
the rest of her life just sitting here, feeling this way. How much of it was 
due to sex and how much of it due to being with Matt, she couldn't say. She 
was pretty sure, though, that the two were inseparable. 

By the end of the week, though, she was sure. And, so too, was Matt. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

With a cold viciousness which would have startled even those who knew him 
well, Victor Rizzi systematically ripped and tore every dress, suit, robe 
and gown filling the closets and chests in the Cleveland Heights apartment 
overlooking Lake Erie. He hurled bottles of perfume, creams and lotions 
against the bathroom's tiled walls. In the living room he jerked pictures 
from their hangings, stamping his heel through glass and frames. With a leg 
broken from a chair, he wrecked the well-stocked bar and tore drapes from 
the windows. He roamed like some enraged ape from room to room, bent only on 
destruction. His eyes were black coals of fury and the normally handsome 
face a contorted mask. He behaved as though everything he touched and ruined 
was the soft yielding body of Jill Foster. There was murder in him and he 
cursed with appalling obscenity, low in tone, terrible in meaning. 

His vanity screamed at the incredible outrage. The bitch! Always she had 
made him feel just a little uncomfortable, as though the clothes he wore 
were somehow just not right, his speech coarse, his manners clumsy. Her 
controlled behavior had always put him on the defensive. She remained aloof 
and in complete possession of herself. She had made him unsure of himself, 
although this was something he never admitted. And he, the sucker, had been 
taken in. To him, she had been more than just a private secretary. He had 
taken her with him when he traveled. He had never touched her. He had 
treated her like a lady. There had even been times when he thought about 
marrying her. 

The humiliation gnawed at him, and he felt his fingers tighten as though her 
slim throat were grasped in their pressure. And all that time she had played 
him for a sucker. Widow of a pig. A snoopy bitch trying to get the goods on 
him. Shit! 

He searched the bar for an unbroken bottle. The floor was littered with 
glass. Finally he found some bourbon in a cabinet. He opened it and drank 
from the bottle, carrying it with him to a chair by the window where he 
could look out upon the lake. The drapes of soft yellow with blue threads 
running through lay in an untidy heap. He kicked them aside. 

Where the hell had she gone? Back to Baltimore? New York? Florida? 
California? He permitted himself a small smile, he knew damn well she didn't 
have much money. He took another drink. All of a sudden things had started 
going to hell. He threw the bottle against the opposite wall. He wanted Jill 
Foster and he would find her. Then he would see to it that she would know 
such agony and debasement beyond her wildest imagination. She would crawl, 
scream for mercy, plead for relief, search a faltering and panic-stricken 
mind for escape. He would destroy her honor and pride; the haughtiness with 
which she had always maintained herself. 

He felt better now and the thin lips almost smiled. Reaching back to where 
the telephone lay upon the floor near an overturned table he picked it up, 
listened for a moment to the humming tone and then dialed slowly. He needed 
to make but one call. From this the order would be transmitted, fanning out 
through a vast invisible web. The boss wanted something done. Find a girl by 
the name of Jill Foster. Find her and take care of her good. 

In a small apartment off El Camino Real Boulevard in Santa Barbara, Jill 
Foster stood at the window listening to the traffic headed for a Sunday's 
outing on the beach or the stretches of sand along the highway which skirted 
the coast all the way to San Francisco. She could hear the rushing sound of 
motors and tires but was not really aware of them. She was deep in thought. 

Those thoughts were constantly on Matt as she waited out the lonely period 
until he returned from Mexico. True, it was not as bad as it might have been 
after that week at the Playa d'Oro had dissolved much too quickly. With 
Matt's help she had found the apartment and a job which occupied much of her 
time, but it was not the same without him around. She had found work as a 
hostess in one of the many restaurants in Santa Barbara, which really wasn't 
unpleasant work - taking customers to a table, laying the menus before them, 
supervising the service. The restaurant was within easy walking distance of 
her small apartment and when the place closed at ten o'clock she liked to 
stroll through the pleasant quiet rural atmosphere of the neighborhood even 
though it was part of a relatively large city. She would stop at a corner 
news vendor and buy a late edition of the Los Angeles Times to read with her 
morning coffee. She took this time in her life for what it was, a period of 
stagnation. It would be different when Matt returned. It would be 
incredible, she thought, if she hadn't met him and her life was reduced to 
nothing more than standing by the cashier's desk near the door, a sheaf of 
menus in her hand and a welcome smile on her face. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Jill Foster walked homeward in the soft night. Overhead there was a 
sprinkling of stars in the sky. She liked this walk home after the 
confinement of the restaurant. It was quiet and a pleasant feeling of 
solitude enveloped her. A light breeze ruffled through the trees and set the 
leaves trembling. She was conscious of the click of her footsteps on the 
pavement, crisp and assured. It felt good to walk, breathing deeply, lifting 
her face to the sky. She felt curiously young and light-hearted. She turned 
a corner; halfway down the block was her small apartment. 

The car was drawn into the shadows, and she could see the figures of a man 
and a girl. The rear door was open, and the girl leaned upon it in a posture 
of misery. As Jill approached she fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. 
The man stooped and was patting her shoulders with clumsy reassurance. Jill 
started to pass. This was none of her business. A quarrel, probably, or a 
girl in the sort of trouble girls sometimes found themselves. Yet the 
kneeling figure was so forlorn, so wretched looking, that she couldn't bring 
herself to ignore her. 

"What's wrong? May I help?" 

The weeping girl looked up, staring miserably. "Please." 

Instinctively, automatically, Jill stepped toward her. The weeping stopped. 
The girl's arms closed about her ankles in a football tackle. The man 
grabbed her, one hand clamped over Jill's mouth to shut off the scream 
already welling in her throat. She was literally thrown headlong into the 
car with her assailant on top of her. She struggled, fighting with a 
desperate terror to free herself. Nothing she did could unlock the 
imprisoning arms and hands. The door slammed shut, striking cruelly at her 
feet, thrusting her legs and knees up in an agonizing fold. She was sprawled 
grotesquely in an awkward bundle on the floor. The man's weight pressed 
against her. She heard the motor start, felt the car roll forward and knew 
there would be no one on the dimly lit street to see what had happened. She 
made a savage attempt to bite at the hand across her mouth but the pressure 
was so relentless her jaws could not move. She felt herself suffocating. 
Then, the man, straddling her almost in a position of copulation, twisted 
her head around. She screamed silently within her throat at the sharp pain. 
For a moment she stared up at an unfamiliar face. The eyes were blank; no 
anger, no compassion, perhaps a touch of amusement. Then he hit her, using 
the side of his open hand like a cleaver to strike just off the point of her 
chin with expert precision. The world became dark, whirling void in which 
she was lost. 

It had all happened in no more than a minute. 

Some time later, she had no way of knowing how long it was, she clawed her 
way back to a dim consciousness. Her first sensation was one of horror. 
Sitting next to her was one of the ugliest men she had ever seen. Above a 
muscular young body was a fleshy face covered with pock marks set around a 
hawkish nose and eyes that were fathomless black coals. Jill tested her 
mouth and lips. They opened readily but her jaw was filled with an almost 
intolerable pain. She tried her arms and feet and found them surprisingly 
free as she studied the man's emotionless eyes. 

Mario Diaz sat in the battered rocking chair that he'd pulled close to 
Jill's bed and stared at the motionless form. Christ but the innocent little 
bitch was built! Just looking at her was enough to make his balls. ache and 
his huge thick cock stiffen and jerk inside his pants. Especially the way 
she was lying now, her magnificently rounded breasts just bursting out of 
the wisp of black lace of the brassiere that set off their snowy whiteness, 
the soft pink flesh of her marvelously curved thighs displayed to him below 
the half-slip that had ridden up practically to her waist. Best of all was 
the glimpse he was getting of the narrow crotch band of black nylon up 
between her limply open legs that had parted slightly in unconsciousness. 
God, it didn't even cover completely her pink little pussy, and Mario stared 
with lewd pleasure at the thin golden patch of pubic fleece there. It sent a 
dull pounding ache coursing the length of his long rigid penis. God but he'd 
like to have his painfully throbbing prick up in her right now, ram it deep 
inside her time after time while she moaned and thrashed and bucked under 
him. And begged for more, too! By God, that would be half the fun, to hear 
this stuck up little bitch actually begging for more. 

But the rule, Mario reflected morosely, was strictly hands off. No damaged 
goods. That was the rule and Mario was going to obey it, just because he 
knew what was good for him. Still, he sighed at the golden opportunity 
denied him, then consoled himself with the knowledge that such abstinence, 
such chastity was in a good cause. He would give almost anything to Victor 
Rizzi, but he was not ready yet to give him his life. But he wished the hell 
she wouldn't tempt him so. 

Jill stirred. She wasn't sure where she was, or who was sitting there next 
to her by the bed. But his intentions were unmistakable. His lecherous eyes 
crawled over her like dirty little cockroaches, and she wanted to brush the 
terror off her body. With an angry gesture, she pulled her thin half-slip 
down over her naked thighs, wondering where her clothes were as she shot the 
horrible young man a withering look and saw with disgust the massive bulge 
under his trousers. She turned away in revulsion. When finally she turned 
back the lewd eyes were obscenely feasting on her body. "Do you have to sit 
there and stare at me like that?" she spat at him. When he didn't answer she 
slipped to the side of the bed and hesitantly stood up. "Where am I?" He 
still didn't answer. She crossed the room gingerly. Mario leered at her 
lusciously rounded ass-cheeks, quivering provocatively as she walked. He 
sucked in his breath with an obscene panting sound, then let out a long, low 
whistle, Jill spun around and glared at him. A cry that was half rage, half 
shame escaped her tightly pursed lips. "You're rotten! Just rotten!" She 
paused as her mind whirled, trying to digest the situation she was in, then 
continued. "Who are you? Who sent you? Victor Rizzi?" 

"Name's Mario, but everybody calls me Dimples," he answered finally. 

"Dimples?" she repeated questioningly. "That's a stupid name for a... a thug 
... a ... " her voice became shrill, turned to a scream of fury "... a 
kidnapper!" 

Dimples leapt to his feet and strode across the room. He seized Jill by her 
shoulders and his nails dug cruelly into the soft, tender flesh as he shook 
her savagely. "Nobody calls me stupid!" he spat. Jill squirmed and writhed, 
trying to escape his powerful hands, but he held her tight. She threw her 
head back, and spoke with an hysterical laugh. "Oh, you're so big and strong 
and brave, aren't you? Just like your boss!" she taunted him. 

Dimples pushed her away from him, holding her at arms length. When he spoke 
his voice was cold and cruel. "Okay Miss High-and-Mighty. You've had it!" 

"What do you mean?" Jill asked with a sudden fear that she had overstepped 
her bounds. 

Dimples held her, motionless, at arm's length, and stared insolently into 
her small frightened face. "I mean I want you. Now! And I'm going to have 
you. Now!" He gave her a shove that sent her hurling across the room. She 
stumbled and fell against the bed. With one gigantic stride, Dimples was 
beside her, clutching her by the shoulder again, pulling her to her feet. 
"I'm going to fuck you," he said, "like you've never been fucked before." He 
gave a short laugh, his lips curled back evilly over his cruel, sharp teeth. 

His hands shot out, seizing the fragile nylon material of her panties and 
slip at the same time. With one swift motion, he ripped the clothes from 
her, letting them fall to the floor. His hand shot out again; this time he 
tore the frail fabric of her brassiere from her fearfully heaving breasts, 
wadded it into a ball and tossed it across the room. 

Holding the panic-stricken girl by one hand now, he struggled out of his own 
clothes. His shirt came first, joining Jill's brassiere in the middle of the 
floor. Quickly, deftly, he unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his pants, 
easing them and his cotton under shorts down over his hips. His massive, 
rock-hard cock sprang free, stiff as a pole, its bulbously swollen head 
oozing tiny drops of excited lubricating fluid. Jill gasped in terror. Good 
Lord, it was the hugest thing she had ever seen. Would he really try to put 
that thing in her? Oh, no! He couldn't. It wouldn't fit! He would kill her, 
she thought, ripping into her tender flesh, tearing it to bits the way he'd 
ripped her clothes. 

Dimples followed her gaze downward as she stood, mesmerized by his huge 
jutting penis. "What's the matter?" he asked with an arrogant sneer. 
"Haven't you ever seen a real man's cock before?" 

Jill stiffened as his hand slid down over her stomach to the gentle mound of 
her pelvis, then slipped between her legs to slowly crawl along the 
sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She gasped, struggling to free herself 
from his lecherous, stroking fingers; but even as she did so, a tiny warming 
spark of unwanted pleasure burst forth in between her legs. Huge wet tears 
rose to her eyes and cascaded down her face. 

She began to plead pitifully with Dimples. "Don't do this to me, please. 
Please. Ill do anything . . . ANYTHING ... if only you'll let me go. I won't 
tell anyone ... I won't..." she buried her face in her hands, sobbing. "Oh 
my God! Please let me go!" 

Dimples gave her a look of withering contempt as he shoved her naked body 
back to the bed, then forced her down upon it. In a moment he was on his 
knees, over her defenselessly trembling form, his cruel eyes filled with 
lust, his mouth twisted sadistically. 

"I'll do anything," Jill whimpered. " . .. anything ..." her voice trailed 
off as the utter hopelessness of her situation sank in. There was nothing 
she could do, she knew, and tears, fresh and abundant, flowed down her pale 
cheeks now. 

Wide-eyed, paralyzed with fear, she watched him straddle her nakedly 
quivering breasts, pinning her arms to her sides with his knees and saw the 
blood-fattened head of his huge penis thrust forward to press wetly against 
her tightly clenched lips. 

He grinned lewdly and with his thumb and forefinger reached down and pinched 
the nostrils of her finely chiseled little nose tightly together until she 
couldn't breathe. 

"Mmmmmmmmph! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmph!" Jill groaned desperately, trying to hold 
her breath as long as she could so she wouldn't be forced to open her mouth. 

"Come on, baby, open up and get a little fresh air... and a big bite of 
cock!" he laughed cruelly, watching her desperately twisting face slowly 
turning a bright crimson from the desperate struggle not to breathe. 

And finally, her lungs searing from lack of oxygen, her whitened lips popped 
open wide, sucking in great gulps of long-denied air. 

"Oh no, now baby wants to milk a little cock!" Dimples mocked above her and 
then shoved his hotly pulsating shaft into her helplessly gasping mouth, 
ramming it down deep inside, until it seemed to brush all the way back 
against her open throat. The captive young blonde gagged and fought wildly 
to expel the rock-hard member that filled her mouth so cruelly, so 
unnaturally. She moved her head from side to side, struggling helplessly 
gasping for breath. My God! She would suffocate . .. she couldn't breathe . 
. . she would die! 

Viciously, Dimples grasped her head in both hands and pulled it forward, as 
she broke free just long enough to suck in more of the cool fresh air, 
filling her lungs, panting with relief. Then the triumphantly grinning young 
man's lust-hardened pole sank deep into her mouth again ... in ... in .. . 
until the throbbing hot tip of it was brushing against her tonsils. . . and 
his wiry, pubic hair grazed and tickled Jill's lips, while his sperm-filled 
balls slapped lewdly down against her chin. Now he began to fuck in and out 
of her widely ovalled mouth with long, quick strokes; and Jill fighting 
revulsion, began to feel a whirling tide of masochistic defeat combines with 
unwanted passion rising in her that took possession of her body, leaving her 
helpless to fight against this obscene defiling of her cock-stretched lips. 
With an overpowering sense of shame she felt her own sticky moistness 
seeping between her now wide-spread legs, felt the warmth of it suddenly 
hotly flooding her pulsing pussy, felt the undeniable ache and throb of 
desire down there between her legs. 

A sudden, alien sound startled her, and her eyelids fluttered open. She 
uttered a muffled cry as she saw the girl who had helped abduct her standing 
near the bed. A lewd, lascivious grin was spread across the young girl's 
face and her eyes burned with a look of hungering lust. 

Without breaking the rhythm of his wildly sawing cock Dimples turned his 
head and snapped, "What the hell do you want Stella?" 

"Just what you're getting," she answered coolly, reaching down to fondle the 
silk-soft golden strands of Jill's nakedly cringing pubic mound. "Just what 
you're getting ... a piece of the action!" 

Jill moaned faintly around the thick pistoning cock in her mouth, then 
collapsed back in defeat as Stella suddenly bent forward, moving her head 
down to the trembling white flesh of Jill's thighs. The young girl began to 
kiss the tender skin there, making the sensitive nerve ends quiver with a 
strange, unwanted excitement. Jill moaned again and stiffened as Stella 
forced her legs apart. A moment later, the girl's hungrily kissing lips 
wandered to the tingling little triangle up between her thighs. The hot wet 
kisses moved down, searching out the fleshy layers of Jill's vagina. The 
young girl's moistly pointed tongue licked slowly and hotly at the pulsating 
moist orifice, then explored the narrow, hair-lined passage until it found 
the tiny coral bud of Jill's clitoris. 

The tantalizing touch of the younger girl's tongue sent new waves of 
forbidden ecstasy crashing through Jill's nakedly receptive body, while her 
brain reeled with a dull horror at what was happening. God but it was 
wonderful! she thought, and yet she found herself longing to fight off this 
further obscenity, this further assault against her once-pure body. Yet she 
was powerless under the delicious ravishment of her shamelessly aroused body 
and could only mewl with muffled pleasure as she submitted to the 
overpowering sexual stimulation coming from the long hard cock ramming in 
and out of her wide-stretched mouth and the gentle caresses of the wetly 
licking tongue up between her legs. 

Wicked and evil though it was, it was wonderful, too, and she abandoned 
herself to the wanton delight of the lewd act she was performing as well, 
running her tongue shamelessly back and forth over the ' sensitive surface 
of Dimple's hotly throbbing cock, teasing the tiny slit in its tip, licking 
the drops of sticky fluid that oozed from it, tasting it, savoring it as he 
jerked his hips forward and fucked deep down inside the saliva-filled warm 
cavern of her mouth. His massively thick penis throbbed against her ovalled 
wet lips like a heart-beat as Dimples rested for a minute to feel the over 
powering sensations of her soft warm mouth, then partially withdrew before 
plunging in again. 

Now Jill's passion-distorted brain brushed aside all rational thought, all 
conscious knowledge of her slavish acceptance of her lewd position, and gave 
herself up completely to the ecstasy of being fucked in the mouth and having 
her hotly pulsing pussy licked at the same time. She lay still, 
concentrating on the sensations, thrilling to the crescendo of hot 
excitement that rose almost to the bursting point in her now drenched, 
wildly palpitating pussy. So intent was she, that the sound of several 
people entering the room made no impression on her. The trio, an older woman 
and two men, one young the other middle-aged, stood quietly and watched the 
doubly debased girl writhe in helpless, submissive passion. 

Madly, insanely now, she sucked on the thick pistoning cock in her mouth; 
her cheeks of their own volition, contracting, tightening around the long 
fleshy staff that moved in and out between her tightly pursed lips like a 
well-oiled drill. And then, suddenly, Dimples' nakedly powerful body above 
her was seized with a violent, wild spasm, and his abruptly jerking penis 
sent a thick stream of milky white sperm gushing into her tightly locked 
mouth, welling up and over her fully pursed young lips like a cascading 
fountain of half whipped cream. Jill gulped to swallow every hot drop, her 
throat constricting and relaxing alternately, hungrily, like a famished 
child sucking at its mother's breast. Close to satiation, her brain deranged 
with passion, she mindlessly licked and swished her tongue around the now 
slowly deflating penis, clinging possessively to its long thickness with her 
elastically ovalled lips in a last desperate effort to prolong the joy for 
yet another instant. At last the young man pulled away from her mouth with a 
wet, sucking sound, and reeled backwards, a thin, glistening strand of his 
sperm following him away and across the firmly rounded mounds of her naked 
breasts as Stella's long, pointed tongue fucked in and out of Jill's wildly 
clasping cunt. 

Each quickening stroke of that quivering wet tongue ignited a new flame of 
rising passion that seared Jill's tingling young cunt, spreading to her 
quivering belly, shooting high up through her body to lick at her tender, 
sensitized breasts. She seemed possessed by an insane passion that blotted 
out all but the ecstatic pleasure of the young girl's hard driving tongue 
thrust again and again, ramming deep inside her frantically clasping cunt 
like a miniature penis. Suddenly Jill jerked and lurched, and a wet sticky 
fluid gushed forth from the walls of her hotly clinging vagina. She writhed 
and churned wildly as her eyelids flew open to the unbelievable sight of the 
younger girl's hand pumping voraciously into her own cuntal passage beneath 
her dress. Almost simultaneously, both girls began a weird, rhythmical 
incantation. "OoooooOOH! ooooooooOOOOO O O H H !!! I'm cummmMMIINNGG!! I'MMM 
CUUMMMIIIINNNNNGGGG!!!!!!!!!!" 

Jill felt her own lust tormented vagina expanding in an agonizing spasm; the 
quaking wet walls of her womb seemed to explode outward, and the hotly 
churning liquid raced the full length of her dilated pussy, gushing forth 
into the passion-opened mouth of the younger girl and trickled in shining 
rivulets down Jill's madly twitching cuntal lips and beyond, into the soft 
whiteness of her thighs. With a loud sigh, Stella collapsed on Jill's 
voluptuously curved body which had already gone limp from exhaustion. 

Jill lay still, thrilling to the numbing crescendo of forbidden pleasure 
that swept over her. So intent was she that the sound of quiet laughter made 
little impression on her. It was only when a gruff voice barked out "Shut 
up," breaking the silence, that she remembered where she was and how she 
came to be there. 

Jill raised her head, recognizing the harsh voice with a cry of fear. "No. 
NO!" she whimpered at the cruelly leering face of the middle-aged man and 
his two companions - the younger man who had clipped her on the chin in the 
car, and a middle-aged woman who had the build of a wrestler and, Jill 
thought hysterically, looked like Yogi Berra. 

"Yes, yes," Victor Rizzi mocked, striding briskly across the room to the 
bed. With one vicious gesture, he yanked Stella from her position above 
Jill's nakedly trembling thighs, tossing the young girl to the floor as if 
she were a crumpled, discarded bit of paper. "GOD DAMN IT! I TOLD YOU I 
DIDN'T WANT HER TOUCHED!" he screamed, propelling a fear-stricken Dimples 
toward the room's only door. Secretly Victor had enjoyed the debasing he had 
just witnessed, but he was not about to allow these four pieces of shit to 
disobey his orders. "Get your ass outside and keep your eyes open," he 
hurled at the retreating figure of Dimples. "And keep your pecker in your 
pants! You'll get to make good use of it later," he spat sarcastically, then 
turned to the frightened girl on the bed, grinning maliciously. "Now it's 
time to make this pig's wife do a little crawling," he concluded with an 
arrogant sneer. 

Jill stared into the cruel face, cowering her nakedness down against the 
mattress as if she might somehow burrow into it and hide herself. She closed 
her eyes and felt the tears oozing from under her eyelids and coursed down 
her cheeks. Blinded, she groped for something to cover herself. There was 
nothing. God, if there was only something to cover her, shield her 
defenselessly naked body from Victor Rizzi's lust and anger filled eyes that 
bored into her like bits of tempered steel. 

A sudden movement startled her, and her eyelids fluttered open. She uttered 
a shrill, half-muffled cry as she saw Rizzi standing only inches from her 
head. He gave a short laugh, then with a sudden movement jerked his zippered 
fly open. A second later he reached in to bring his rigidly pulsating cock 
close to her mouth. "Suck it," he demanded lewdly, while the helpless young 
woman cringed as if she had been struck with a closed fist. 

"Suck it," he repeated sternly. 

Wide-eyed, paralyzed with fear, Jill's crazed mind screamed for help, for a 
way out of this terrible situation. Her eyes closed once again as she sought 
vainly for an answer. Suddenly it came to her, a single word, and she began 
to repeat it to herself, over and over again: Matt. . . Matt. . . Matt.. . 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Matt Grant stood quietly among the grove of orange trees not a hundred yards 
from the ranch house, puffing steadily on the cigarette shielded in his 
cupped palms. He would have liked a good strong belt of bourbon to ease the 
early morning chill that clutched at his stiffening body through the thin 
coat. But it was impossible. Instead, he forced his thoughts back to a more 
immediate problem, letting all the pertinent facts fall into their 
respective places as he went over them for what seemed the dozenth time. 

He had lain on the too-short sofa in Jill's small apartment, smoking and a 
drink at his elbow, waiting patiently for her to come home. He had wanted to 
surprise her so he had not gone to the restaurant. When she had not arrived 
by ten-thirty he had called and discovered that she had left the restaurant 
on time as usual. 

He had taken the car, then, and traced the route she took on her walk home. 
Nothing! Returning, finally, to the apartment, he had placed a call to the 
Bureau in Los Angeles and learned to his horror that Victor Rizzi had 
arrived at Los Angeles International some twenty minutes before. Rizzi was 
being tailed, and he was told to stay put until they notified him of Rizzi's 
destination. 

It had been a long wait - a pack of cigarettes and five drinks worth. When 
the call finally came it was not what he expected - he was right back where 
he had been before. Rizzi's car had eluded the tail somewhere near Ojai. 
Additional units, plus the local sheriffs office and Highway Patrol were 
combing the area, but nothing had turned up yet. The voice on the phone was 
still droning on when he slammed the receiver down. The drive to Ojai was 
more like a flight, and when he arrived it all seemed unnecessary, for he 
still didn't know where to begin to search. Slowly, meticulously, he combed 
the back roads of the county, leaving the town and the highways to the men 
who were more familiar with them. With only a description of the car as his 
single clue, he searched for over two hours, until shortly after three A.M., 
he had found the ranch house among the orange trees - and the black 
limousine. 

Now, afraid that Rizzi might slip away if he went for help, Matt quietly 
waited for it. There was no way of knowing how many men were in the rambling 
old house, but he had to try. There were at least three, of that he was 
almost certain. There was Rizzi, his chauffeur from the airport, and at 
least one person to watch over Jill... if they had grabbed her. There could 
be more. He hoped not. 

Slowly, then, he began to creep toward the house, using the orange trees for 
cover wherever possible. The going was made more difficult by the nearly 
full moon which illuminated the bare ground around the house for over 
seventy-five feet in all directions. He skirted the entire house from a 
distance and still had no idea in which room Jill was being held, for all 
the windows in the rather large house showed light to one degree or another. 
He would just have to take his chances. Deciding to use the back door, he 
crept ever closer to it, and heard the sound of a male voice, loud, angry, 
just off to the left of the door. Detouring for a moment, he moved in that 
direction, in hopes that he might glimpse a view of the room, its occupants, 
and a general idea as to the layout of the house itself. He reached the 
window, slowly inched his fingers along its sash, and cautiously peered 
through. What he saw occupied his thoughts for only a moment. Jill was lying 
on a bed, naked, with Victor Rizzi's long white cock sawing into her mouth. 
Rizzi had raised his hand to slap her with an open palm, but for some 
strange reason the sound of the blow came to him before it was delivered, 
like an old movie with its sound track ahead of the action. The sound, had 
not been that of vicious Rizzi, but the loud thud that had caught him just 
below the ear, Matt realized for only an instant as he slumped toward the 
cold ground. 

* * * 

"Hey boss. We've got a visitor," Dimples exclaimed, breathlessly, bursting 
into the room just as Jill received the second load of hot spurting sperm 
down her gullet in fifteen minutes. 

A barely satiated Victor Rizzi turned in anger toward the huge ox who stood 
in the doorway, arms dangling like a gigantic ape, and retorted, "You stupid 
fucking slob, can't you ever do what your told. You're suppose to be 
outside!" "But... but I was. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I was 
outside and this dude comes creeping up to the house, so I bopped 'em," he 
said, satisfied with his achievement. 

"What? You mean there was someone outside?" It seemed incredulous to Rizzi. 
"Where? Show me," he said, stuffing his deflating, sperm-dripping penis back 
in his pants and zipping them. 

* * * 

When Matt Grant finally clawed his way back to awareness the things which 
greeted his eyes made him wish he were still unconscious. His wrists and 
ankles had been securely tied to a heavy straight-backed chair and only his 
aching head was free to move. The room in which he was being held was the 
one he had seen through the window. Starting with Victor Rizzi seated across 
from him, his trained eyes took in every detail of the small room; a 
muscular hood stood near the door with his arms folded, while a young girl 
and middle-aged woman were straightening up from the bed where Jill lay. 

"What the hell are you doing to her?" Matt asked, as he struggled futilely 
at the bonds that held him securely. 

"There's no reason to get excited," Victor Rizzi answered. "It was my wish 
that the young lady enjoy herself. No cause for alarm, Mr. Grant, she has 
just been given an injection, another small dose of hashish oil. .. her 
second tonight, and she responded so favorably to the first that we decided 
to increase the dosage. Administered to the blood stream it has an immediate 
effect that will last for several hours and then vanish with no ill 
effects," he continued with a charming smile. 

"You slimy pig," Matt spat. "You'll never get away with this, Rizzi." 

"Ah, but I shall, Mr. Grant, I shall. I have made elaborate plans that will 
completely exonerate our activities here. Besides, you see, we've checked 
the grounds and discovered that you are quite alone. However, there is one 
thing that puzzles me. How did you come to find me?" 

Matt Grant sat silently. "Now, now, Mr. Grant... do you mind if I call you 
Matt? ... I feel that I know you well. Now, then, Matt, it will be much 
easier if you cooperate. It will be especially easier on Mrs. Foster." 

"You leave her alone!" 

"You have the positions reversed, Matt. I am in command here, not you." His 
voice took on a sterner quality. "I'll ask you just once more. How did you 
find this place?" 

Still no answer. 

"Very well then," Rizzi continued, "you leave me no choice." He turned 
toward the bed. "Stella!" Go relieve Dimples. And keep a sharp watch." 

Without a word the young girl left the room. In a few moments the muscular 
youth appeared. 

"Now, then, Matt. For one last time I ask you to reconsider. Jill will be 
especially unhappy about this decision of yours." 

"What do you mean?" 

"How do you think she's going to feel when we start in?" 

"Start in?" 

"Yes. I promised myself that Jill was going to pay for her indiscretions." 
His voice turned cruel as he stared into Matt's questioning eyes. "She is 
going to be debased beyond her or your wildest dreams. She will not be aware 
of it immediately, of course, but you will. You are going to sit there and 
watch me destroy this little bitch for thinking she could double cross 
Victor Rizzi." 

Matt turned pale and clenched his fists. "You can't frighten me that way," 
he said. 

"Not now, of course," Rizzi said. "But a little later - when you hear her 
screams - then, of course, you might become a little nervous." He smiled 
sadistically. "We'll go easy at first. But then ..." he let his voice trail 
off. 

"You bastard!" Matt shouted. 

Rizzi shook a warning finger at him. "You said we couldn't frighten you," he 
said, in feigned surprise. "But if you're going to yell when we only talk 
about degrading the young lady, what are you going to do when we actually 
start in on her?" 

Matt restrained himself, refusing to be taunted. 

"But you mustn't worry," the gangster continued. "We'll only scare Jill 
where it won't be generally seen. You know, in her mind. Where she can 
remember it for the rest of her life. Of course, though," he said, 
reflecting on his words, "there will be some lasting physical marks." He 
leaned forward, his black eyes boring into Matt's. "Marks that only she will 
be aware of. Stretch marks. A forever stretched cunt!" Without taking his 
eyes from the bound law enforcement officer he addressed Dimples. "Show him 
your weapon Dimples." 

The muscular youth responded immediately, unzipping his fly and extracting 
his limp penis which even in that state was larger than most when fully 
erect. Slowly he began to stroke the massive shaft of flesh, and it 
responded immediately to his manipulations, swelling and rising, until it 
stood out from his body like a large limb on a small tree. 

Matt, who had never felt in the least inadequate with the size of his own 
organ, gasped in disbelief at the now fully erect penis. Its very size he 
knew, would tear Jill horribly, scarring her tender young flesh forever, 
etching her brain for life with its painful entry. In rage, Matt struggled 
against his bonds, trying to get at the noxious underworld figure sitting 
across from him. "You bastard!" Matt spat again. "You slimy, filthy 
bastard!" 

In response, Victor Rizzi grinned and motioned to Dimples to begin, shifting 
his chair in order to watch both the girl on the bed and the totally 
helpless Treasury Agent in the chair. 

Jill looked up with a start of pleasure when Dimples leaned over her, 
roughly forced her legs apart and moved one big hand down to trace the 
length of her hair-lined cuntal furrow. 

Matt, watching a few feet away, let out a bellow that sounded like that of a 
wounded bull, and made another futile attempt to free himself. 

On the bed, Jill rolled her eyes up at Dimples. He was such a beautiful 
young man, she thought. Her eyes slowly traveled around the room, taking in 
the faces that all seemed to be directed toward her. There was Victor, and 
Angie, and Emma, and . .. and even Matt. They were all such beautiful 
people. She smiled crookedly at the pock-marked face above her, squinting to 
focus on it. "Hi," she said, grinning widely. 

"Hi," Dimples grunted, waving his hand. 

Jill squinted dreamily at the others. Matt was here too. How marvelous! 
Everything was wonderful. She returned her gaze to Dimples. "Hi," she 
repeated the word coming out slowly, sensually. 

In answer, Dimples placed his hands on the young naked girl's ripely 
upthrust breast, pressing his thumbs and forefingers against the tiny little 
buds of her nipples, rolling them into a taut erection. He felt his 
painfully throbbing cock jerk inside his pants as he anticipated the 
pleasure in store for him. 

His hands roved down Jill's lushly naked body, caressing the firm flesh of 
her gently swelling belly, moving on to explore the mass of golden, sparsely 
curling pubic fleece up between her legs. Jill, transfixed in her drugged 
haze, felt a rising tide of passion surging through her at the delicious 
touch of the young man's fingers. Tingling with excitement, she sat up, 
mouth hanging open expectantly, and positioned herself on all fours on the 
edge of the bed. Her nakedly gleaming ass waved in invitation. In an 
instant, Dimples was on his knees beside her stroking her firm-fleshed 
thighs again, running his hands down the outside of them, over them, 
spreading them apart in a slow, methodical movement and finally moving his 
hands up and down the tender flesh of her inner thighs. 

Jill whimpered in ecstasy, and then drew her legs together in shocked 
surprise as the morning air blew coolly across her wetly throbbing vaginal 
slit. Now Dimples' hand slipped closer to her pinkly glistening pussy, 
gently parting the sensitive fleece-lined cuntal lips while Jill closed her 
eyes and gasped with pleasure. She felt the surging desire flowing through 
her entire body, but converging there up between her legs was a wild 
throbbing sensation that was beyond her control, a desire that turned her 
narrow cuntal passage into a hot seeping cavern of moistness. She groaned 
softly, lifted her feet up, and placed heels far apart on the edge of the 
bed to present the whole of her naked pussy to all the lewdly gaping eyes. 

Dimples' finger wormed tenderly into the heated pink wetness, and Jill's 
entire being tingled. He probed deeper, first fingering the fleshy lips, 
then withdrawing to find the hard, taut bud of her clitoris. He gently 
stroked that, too, until she responded with a sudden little spasm of pure 
delight and a sensuous grinding of her buttocks that was visible to all the 
onlookers. 

She remembered them in some dim way, their faces merging with the bright 
colors and sweet sounds which were the setting for the marvelous sensations 
she felt, and turned her head to see Matt. 

She loved him so much, she knew. But he seemed angry. Now why would he be 
angry? She searched her befuddled brain for an answer, but was unable to 
find one. Jill brushed the question aside, lying nakedly back now, as 
Dimples' finger eased gently into her cunt, probing deeper and deeper into 
her moistly welcoming vaginal cavern. She moaned and tossed beneath him, 
then with a sudden movement threw her arms up around his neck as she began 
to wildly rotate her hips against his outstretched finger. 

She caught the sight of Matt's face again, bright red now with fury, with 
hatred, with disgrace. I'll make it up to him, she promised herself. I'll 
explain. And hell understand. Oh, yes, he'll understand. And we'll do this 
together, and Matt will know how wonderful it is, and he'll understand, and 
he won't be angry with me any more, and he'll feel just the way I do . . . 
just the way I do, she thought through the dim haze of her hashish aroused 
passion. 

Jill held Dimples closer to her, but there was something wrong - something 
awfully wrong! She didn't know what it was at first and then it dawned on 
her that his body, which should have been smooth and glistening and warm was 
for some reason rough and irritating. She felt it again. He was rough and 
irritating and somehow dry and uncomfortable. She focused her eyes on him, 
puzzled, and then it dawned on her that he was still fully clothed. He 
shouldn't be doing that, she was sure. It spoiled the fun. She began to rip 
the buttons of his shirt, but when her limp fingers slid around them, she 
reached for the zipper on his pants. She found, instead, his already erect 
penis. 

Clasping her fingers around the young man's long blood-swollen cock, she 
massaged it gently, moving the foreskin back and forth, back and forth, 
until his hardness grew stronger springing into a separate living thing, she 
thought in her drug dazed reverie. She gazed at it, admiring its gigantic 
size and its now rock-hard rigidity, staring unblinkingly at the small hole 
that was like an eye at the very tip of his penis. 

"Oooooh!" she moaned, falling back on the bed, her legs spread wide, her 
heels splayed out over the sides of it, "Oooooh, Dimples!" 

With a quick twist of his wrist, he pulled his shirt off, unbuckled his belt 
and let his pants slip down. He'd been kneeling, but now he stood, leaning 
over Jill lying limp and waiting on the mattress. "What do you want me to 
do, baby?" he asked coldly. 

"Ooooh," she moaned. "Ooooh .. . you know!" 

"No, I don't." 

"Yes, you do!" 

"Tell me," he ordered. 

"I want you to fuck me," Jill said, all inhibitions wiped away by the 
exhilarating effect of the hashish. "I want you to fuck me. 

Dimples shot a quick, evil glance at Matt, who watched the scene in complete 
and utter shock. "Say it again," he ordered her, twisting the emotional 
knife one more time. "Say it loud so Mister Grant can hear you." 

Matt wanted to hear her say it, Jill thought. But of course she would for 
him. She would do anything to make him happy. She would make him ever so 
happy when that time came. But now she would make him happy by saying it 
again. "Fuck me," she said in a low, passion-thickened voice. "Fuck me!" She 
heard a yell that sounded as if it came from Matt, but she couldn't 
understand why he would be shouting when she was doing what he wanted her 
to. Soon his voice died away and she forgot about it as Dimples, kneeling 
eagerly between her open thighs, used the thick, bulbous head of his penis 
to part the wetly glistening lips of her vagina, leaving the excited little 
cuntal mouth up between her legs completely open to him. Then, she felt his 
heatedly pulsating shaft slip along the entire length of her vaginal furrow 
where it teasingly parted the softly curling strands of her pubic hair and 
pushed against her overly sensitive clitoris. A jolt of pleasure shot 
through her. "Oh . . . ahhhhhh!" 

Dimples' hands closed around the tops of her thighs, gripping them tightly, 
and his fingers dug harshly into her soft flesh. "Put it in," he ordered. 

"I'm .. . I'm afraid. It's going to hurt," she groaned helplessly. 

"Put it in!" His words snapped out like a cat-o'-nine-tails, and she 
flinched as though he had actually struck her. 

Jill groaned piteously as she felt his brutal fingers digging even deeper 
into her sensitive flesh. She couldn't stand pain like that and her own 
burning need. In desperation, she reached back between her legs and found 
his hotly throbbing hardness. It was so massive that it seemed as though she 
couldn't possibly wrap her fingers around it. But with that first touch of 
her hands on his living, pulsating flesh, she knew she had to have it inside 
her. He was going to impale her; she knew it would hurt. He would split her. 
She would die. And yet... strangely ... masochistically ... she welcomed 
this death. Just fuck me, she thought, and then tearfully pressed his huge 
bulbous cock-head at the defenseless little opening of her vagina. The huge 
youth smiled out at the spectators as he felt her trembling hand place his 
cock at the wetly puckering opening to her womb. He began a slow prodding 
against the elastic opening, feeling the softly yielding lips parting to 
accommodate him. Then the huge head was through the first layer of warm, 
all-enveloping wet flesh and attempting to force its way inside the tight 
restricting ring of cuntal muscle that jealously guarded the entrance to her 
deeper vaginal passage. 

"Aaaaaggghhhh," she groaned, panting in pain. "You're hurting me. Stop for a 
minute ... please." 

Now, though, with the feel of her warmly clasping pussy giving way before 
him, Dimples no longer felt any tenderness or inclination for mercy. He 
wanted to be inside her - all the way. He needed to be. He wanted to fuck 
her, had to fuck her! And the heat of animal desire suddenly shorted out all 
restraint in him. He took a tighter hold on her thighs and then lunged 
forward, while at the same time pulling her buttocks back toward him. 

"Aaaaaaaggggghhhhhhh," it was a shrill scream of agony from Jill, as she 
felt his long thick cock slam through the hotly throbbing barriers of her 
cunt, ramming deeper, far deeper than she had ever been penetrated before. 
She was being split apart - ripped asunder! She even thought she could feel 
her protesting stomach muscles being ripped from their anchoring tendons. 
Another scream gurgled from her throat, but this was hashish-induced and 
sounded like the wild scream of exaltation of a mating cat. 

Jul struggled vainly as she dug her buttocks into the mattress and lunging 
sideways in an effort to escape the brutal impalement. The giant pulsating 
penis was like some huge diamond-headed drill boring deep into the 
subterranean areas of her belly. She could swear it was in so far that it 
must be lodged up between her breasts. Her stretched-to-capacity cuntal 
walls were searing blazes of agony from the invading shaft of muscle and 
flesh. 

Jul attempted once more to struggle loose, but all her efforts were futile, 
and she realized he had actually skewered her, impaled her on the end of his 
rock-hard cock like some helpless laboratory specimen on a mounting board. 

She has an absolutely incredible little cunt, Dimples thought with delight. 
It was tight; the tightest he had in many years, but it was all velvet and 
heat in there. A proud pussy, with reason to be proud. She had deep muscles 
that were working on him now, even though she was still moaning and groaning 
in pain. It was a wonderful sensation, and if he didn't watch himself he 
would go out of his mind. Her wetly clinging pussy lips clutched and 
caressed the thickness of his cock, moving like an expensive, 
butter-slickened suede glove - or a warm wet chamois cloth around the full 
length of his hardened manhood. And because she would make him cum this way 
- without his moving at all - Dimples decided he had better start the fuck 
show right now or Rizzi, watching from across the room, would think he was a 
rabbit who couldn't hold back. 

The subserviently kneeling young girl gradually became aware that Dimples 
was beginning to rock rhythmically and gently in and out of the soft 
confines of her hideously stretched vagina. The pain was fading now, and she 
began to feel once more the buildup of pleasure. Her breath became more 
shallow, and it rasped in her throat. 

"Go on ... darling ... go on. I love it." she groaned her ass sensually back 
against him. 

Dimples heard her words and a feeling of supreme power and achievement swept 
over him. He knew now that she was responding to his hotly pulsating cock as 
he fucked in and out with long, steady strokes that had all the accuracy of 
a torpedo speeding silently through the warm vaginal seas. 

Little explosive sounds of delight began coming from Jill's lips with each 
inward thrust of that implacable shaft of hard flesh. She could feel her 
sensually aroused body responding to him, could feel muscles and tendons and 
nerves all working in unison to bring him pleasure and her relief. She 
spread her thighs even wider, feeling her knees scraping against the wool 
blanket. She could feel everything about him now. The prurient little throbs 
his pulsing cock's head made, the twitching, his pubic hair pressed tight 
against her thighs. Suddenly she dropped from her elbows to one shoulder on 
the bed, lifting her firmly rounded young ass up higher in an obscene 
offering of lust. Deep, deep inside of her, the spongy hot head of his penis 
grazed against the bony tip of her cervix while her uterus expanded and 
contracted like the dark folds of some incredibly warm accordion. She felt 
the first barely perceptible beginnings of the fire preceding her orgasm. It 
was beautiful... so beautiful. She began working toward it, edging up to it 
so it would not run away like some frightened bird. 

And then, abruptly, Dimples pulled completely out! 

"Don't," she panted. "You can't do that to me. You promised. You promised to 
fuck me ... to make me cum." 

Dimples raised up and stared down at her. A cruel grin of victory was on his 
face. "And I will. Now I'm going to fuck you another way .. . you'll be on 
top and I'll be on the bottom." 

Jill felt a rush of greater passion as her drug-dulled mind finally realized 
the implications of what he was saying. She would be on top; she would be 
boss .. . she could bring on her orgasm at will. 

Dimples lay down beside her. She saw his great long cock, throbbing away, 
shining with juices from deep within the well-springs of her own wetly 
grateful vagina. And because she wanted to and no longer had any inhibitions 
whatsoever left, she bent forward and kissed the rigidly heated length that 
had brought her so much pleasure. She licked it from testicles to 
purplish-red head before straddling him. 

Dimples, flat on his back, had his hands behind his head. He watched her 
with amusement. 

Finally Jill said, "What shall I do?" 

"Sit up on my prick. Put it between your legs - let it slip into that tight 
juicy little pussy - and then slowly... sit down." 

The drugged young blonde did as she was instructed, feeling the huge 
pulsating head once again stretching her moistly quivering cuntal opening. 
This time, however, there was no pain, only indescribable delight as it 
slowly sank into her. She played with it, tightening her pussy lips around 
it . . . making little movements of penetration . .. one inch . . . two 
inches . . . out a little, in a little .. . three inches. It was a 
ceremonial sword being returned to its rightful sheath. Her eyes widened 
once again in animal passion. And finally, no longer able to deny herself 
the joy of full penetration, she lowered herself completely on the hotly 
throbbing rod. When it was finally lodged all the way in her, she shook her 
head in unconcealed delight, and her long honey-blonde hair swung back and 
forth like a golden curtain blowing in the breeze. 

She began moving up and down on the thick, wetly glistening cock, making 
slow movements at first. She experimented, then realized that she could 
bring her erectly tingling clitoris into contact with the warm hard shaft. 
Unable to control herself, she greedily began bouncing up and down on his 
lap, feeling the hardened male flesh pounding deeper, ever deeper into the 
lonely cuntal canyon up between her open thighs. Her naked young body began 
twitching and writhing in uncontrollable wantonness. She groaned in complete 
abandonment as the deliciously punching instrument sank to new, untapped 
depths in her rippling womb. Her face reddened and little moans of ecstasy 
bubbled out of her throat. "Oh... so beautiful, so wonderful. .. oh, 
darling." She bent forward impulsively and kissed the surprised young man, 
digging her tongue into his warm wet mouth, tongue-fucking him. Then she 
drew back, her eyes beginning to glaze again and her breath coming faster. 

Dimples felt her deliberately pull her knees in tighter around his ribcage 
as she sought to increase the friction. Then, when he was sure she was once 
again about to reach toward the orgasm, he took his hands out from behind 
his head and grabbed the warmly thrusting mounds of her buttocks to hold her 
tight against his flat stomach. 

"What. .. what are you doing?" she asked, still making little movements in 
spite of his unbreakable grip on her buttocks. 

Dimples smiled. "I promised to make you cum. And I will. But first..." Even 
as he was speaking, his hands once again peeled apart the soft white cheeks 
of her ass. 

Angie, the ferrety gangster, had walked quietly up behind them. He was 
completely naked, and his long thick penis stood out rigidly erect and 
ready. He stared hungrily down at the ripe full moons of her defenselessly 
quivering ass, at the exposed little anus, and then at Victor Rizzi for 
direction. 

Jill winced in surprised pain and then screamed aloud as Angie took her by 
the thighs and brutally forced her legs farther apart. She screamed in 
fright, then gasped again as Angie's outstretched finger momentarily teased, 
then wormed its way deep into the puckered little orifice of her anus. In 
and out it ground, in and out, and Jill felt a searing pain that only 
moments later turned to discomfort, then to a strangely soothing pleasure, 
bringing an aching longing in drug-crazed body, a weird masochistic desire 
she knew in her heart to be wicked and evil. But she knew she could never 
resist, not when she felt such excitement and joy and sheer ecstasy in the 
act. 

She groaned and wiggled her hips salaciously back as Angie's finger prodded 
and probed inside her tightly clenched little anus, widening it, expanding 
it, bringing a delightful, pleasurable throb to it that made her gasp for 
breath. Then a second finger joined the first, forced in with a terrible 
urgency. He began to work the two back and forth in the narrow passage; 
preparing it for the entrance of his already lust-swollen cock. 

The smaller hoodlum was almost ready, breathing hard, panting over her 
nakedly kneeling body, and his fingers thrust in and out of her tightly 
puckering anus as if he no longer had control of them. Then Angie, like 
Dimples, before, demanded that she beg him, implore him, to perform this 
outrageously perverted act. "Want it?" he asked coldly, cruelly, as if she 
were no more than an animal to be debased for his pleasure. Jill hesitated, 
frightened by the sadistic tone of his voice, then said, "Oooooooh! Yes!" 

"Yes, what? Tell me! Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you," Angie 
commanded. 

"I... I... " But Jill could not bring herself to speak the vile words. "I 
can't," she wailed. 

"Like Hell you can't," Angie said, squirming his fingers deeper for 
emphasis. 

"P.l.e.a.s.e ..." Jill whimpered, trying to hold back her tears. "Please 
fuck me in the ass. Please." 

"Why?" Angie asked, tormenting her still further. 

"Because that's what I like," Jill said, and in her drug-crazed mind she 
thought it was the truth. 

Angie twisted around, leering obscenely, while Rizzi shrieked triumphantly, 
"Hear that, Matt! That's what your precious girl friend likes ... a little 
asshole fucking. How about that?" He poked Matt, who groaned in impatient 
anger. "She likes to be fucked in the ass!" 

Matt's attention turned once more to Jill, lying on the bed. Angie had 
pulled her naked young buttocks up to a kneeling position and mounted her as 
if he were a stallion, and now he took his thick, swollen shaft and wrapped 
Jill's tiny fingers around its hotly pulsating hardness. "Put it in," he 
ordered, guiding her hand down toward the hairless, rubbery little opening 
to her rectum. Jill, too terrified to resist, and with a drug-induced desire 
to comply at the same time, placed the tip of the lust-thickened instrument 
against her fearfully cringing anus. With a quick brutal thrust that this 
time brought a scream of pain from her, Angie popped the blood-filled head 
just up inside the small, tightly puckered orifice, then slowly pressed 
forward and forced the elastically yielding walls further and further apart 
until he was sunk deep up in the tightness of her painfully quivering 
bowels. 

He began to ram it in and out, and the intense pain Jill had felt as he 
entered her suddenly blended with the intense humiliation she felt; both 
sensations gradually turned to an oddly rising sexual stimulation. She moved 
experimentally back against his heatedly pulsating cock, arching her body, 
thrusting her nakedly gleaming buttocks up and outward, rotating them in 
tiny teasing circles as she met Angie's thick hardness reaming out her 
rectum . . . then falling forward to impale herself on Dimples' massively 
pistoning penis lodged so deeply in her wide-stretched vagina. Oh, God, she 
thought again, as a helpless ecstatic moan rose deep within her throat, this 
was horrible, horrible .. . but, at the same time, wickedly beautiful to be 
used and simultaneously fucked in the ass and vagina like a common whore. 
There was agony and ecstasy, all whirled together in one great sensual 
moment, and she thought, in spite of her initial revulsion, that the last 
few hours had been just that, agony and ecstasy, and she had lived through 
the most sensuously exciting time in her life .. . and best of all she was 
sharing this joy with the man she loved, Matt Grant. Gratefully, she glanced 
over to him, and his figure went in and out of focus as the hashish-oil sent 
billowing clouds of uncertainty through her brain. For just a moment, she 
had thought Matt was tied to a chair; but that was impossible, no one could 
tie up Matt! 

Angie's sperm-bloated balls smacked down hard against the slavishly kneeling 
girl's upper thighs as his thickly burrowing cock sank deep up inside her 
tight little rectal passage, pushing almost to her pelvis. 

Suddenly Jill no longer cared about anything but what was happening to her 
tortured young body. Gradually a glow was building up back there in the 
buttery depths of her rectum; she recognized it for what it was - a promise 
... a promise that shouted, "You're about to cum . .. work at it - work at 
it!" She moved frantically upward against his incoming sodomizing stroke, 
and then fell greedily forward to sink Dimples' hotly pulsating cock to the 
hilt in her cock-crazed vagina. 

Then, as if by some secret signal, both massive shafts of lust-hardened 
flesh were moving in unison, battering into her - buffeting her nakedly 
writhing body between them. She closed her eyes in delirium - she was a love 
slave. Let them do what they want to me; I'll do anything for them. 

Dimples knew the second she had totally surrendered to her brutal 
ravishment. He had known long before she, because he could feel her 
responsive little twitchings deep in her vagina. She was close to cumming... 
it would be a climax she could never equal again. She would simply pass out 
at the height of it. She was coming closer . . . closer . .. closer. He 
could feel her inner muscles suddenly tensing, could feel the uncontrollable 
twitching deep within her wildly milking cunt beginning to go insane. Her 
breath had almost stopped; her eyes had grown wide in stunned disbelief and 
fevered hope. He felt the first jerkings as Angie grunted once and began 
spewing his sperm deep up inside her rectum. He knew that had triggered her 
climax for her! 

Jill felt the exquisite velvet explosion beginning in her body. She felt the 
hot throbbing of Angie's ejaculating cock deep in her rectum and knew he was 
cumming inside her there. The knowledge that the perverted act had already 
been concluded . . . and that she had enjoyed it... was the catalyst that 
set off the explosion. She was close. Very close. Almost there. Almost. 
THERE! 

"Ah? Ah? UH? I'm ... I'm ... I'm ... , I'M CUMMMIING! Oh, God! I'm cumming 
..." The first convulsive wave of joy and ecstasy wracked her body, and it 
was then, just before her fluttering eyes closed, that she saw them . . 
.Victor Rizzi and all of them - even Matt - looking hot-eyed and breathless 
at her and her lewd, unforgivable lasciviousness. 

"I'm cumming," she screamed defiantly at them. "I'm cumming," and her 
nostrils dilated with joy. Her nakedly convulsing body moved in a whirl-wind 
of lust and fulfillment. Let them stare. I am not alone in my shame. I revel 
in it. I grovel in it. My shame is my joy. Share my joy with me. Cum with 
me. Cum all of you. Her body continued to pound up and down on Dimples' 
hard-driving penis and then, happily, she felt it, too, spurting far, far up 
inside of her. That ignited new and even more powerful stages in her orgasm, 
and she was jetting in free-fall toward the mysterious never-before realms 
of sensation. She came .. . and came, her voice shrilly crying out in 
wonderment and exaltation .. . until finally, she felt her mind drifting 
off. . . and she fell forward, in a swoon of passion, upon the chest of the 
man who had brought this joyous moment to her. 

* * * 

Jill had been repeatedly fucked into unconsciousness when the door to the 
small room burst open with an explosion like dynamite, and two uniformed 
deputy sheriffs were through it in an instant. With a smooth stride that 
seemed practiced and unbroken, they raised their service revolvers, covering 
the rooms occupants. 

"Police officers! Freeze! Hold it! Don't touch that gun or I'll shoot!" one 
of them shouted as Victor Rizzi defiantly reached under his coat. The 
gangster's hand stopped. Then, every detail, every single movement was 
lightning-fast, and was over almost before it had begun. 

Matt Grant sat quietly, rubbing his wrists, as his old friend, Sheriff Ray 
Ball explained the details; how they had found his car and the note he had 
left under the windshield. After that it had been merely routine. 

Matt Grant was still sitting there, an hour later. Everyone had gone; the 
deputies, Victor Rizzi and his cohorts, Sheriff Ball, even the ambulance 
attendants with their gurney and its sheet covered, unconscious occupant. 
But Matt Grant was still there - alone, an empty spot where his heart once 
was, a moisture in his unseeing eyes as he relived, over and over, the 
horrible memory of this early morning. Finally, as the sun began to peek in 
the corner of the room's only window he stood wearily and left the room. He 
did not look back. 


THE END
