GSX-196 The Violated Virgin
by Ward Fulton


Chapter 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Here you are, darling!"

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

"Yvonne, where've you been?"

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

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

"Did you see the basket on that one?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you having?"

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

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

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

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

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

"So, you excited?"

Suzanne nodded.

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

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

Suzanne nodded. "Not a chance."

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

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

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

"I will."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sam!" Her voice was tinged with terror.

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

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

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

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

*   *   *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi. You moving into the neighborhood?"

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

"Yes, I am," she replied.

"Here, let me help."

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

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

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

"In this building?"

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

"I'm Suzanne," she replied.

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

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

"You live with your folks?" asked Suzanne.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a sigh, she flopped into a chair and surveyed her new apartment. 
She felt she was going to be very happy here. For the first time in her 
life, she would have a place that was entirely her own. For a split 
second, she wished Sam were there with her, and the sign on the door 
read "Mr. and Mrs." instead of merely "Suzanne Delacorte." She made a 
mental note to write to Sam that evening and tell him of her move.



Chapter 2


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*   *   *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That'll be fine," he said.

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

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

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

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

Ted laughed and leaned up against the sink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suzanne felt the tears come splashing down her cheeks.

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

Ted laughed loudly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wow, look at them legs!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Suck it, you bitch, suck it!"

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

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

Would they want to take her virginity?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They both stared at her, their faces disbelieving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jesus, you really were cherry!"

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

"How come? How come you wuz cherry?"

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

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

"Hey."

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

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

She stared mutely up at him, biting her lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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



Chapter 3


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*   *   *

Suzanne found it difficult to concentrate on her classes that day. 
Mechanically she went through the motions of greeting her friends, of 
taking notes, of listening to her instructors, and eating a steerburger 
and a Coke at Verne's for lunch. Yvonne was in the bar, playing pool 
with Jeff, a young medical student whose youth and virile appeal had 
given him quite a reputation around town as being a ladies' man. 
Suzanne watched them both as they pranced around the pool table, Jeff 
exhibiting a boyish enthusiasm for his prowess and Yvonne doing her 
best Bette Davis impersonation as she studied each shot before lowering 
her practiced eye to the pool cue and sent the ball lazily across the 
green felt. Suzanne watched, thinking how their way of playing matched 
their personalities. Jeff took a few seconds to decide, then shot fast 
and hard, and usually made the pocket he aimed for; he probably picked 
his sleeping partners the same way, Suzanne thought. Yvonne took her 
time, considered all the angles, and then played slow and safe, her 
ball usually trickling across the table and dropping in the pocket 
almost as its momentum ran out. But then Yvonne was probably quite a 
bit older than Jeff; or would it be better to say Jeff was quite a bit 
younger than Yvonne? What difference did it make? It's not the age of 
your men, Yvonne had said once, but how well they can age you. Suzanne 
wondered how many years Jeff had put on Yvonne since they had met. She 
knew they had been going together, at least that's what the campus 
gossip had said. But then Jeff went with just about anyone; rumor had 
it he had donated his penis to the Smithsonian Institute upon his death 
to be enshrined as a national monument. After all, there were still 
quite a number who hadn't seen it, let alone had the pleasure of its 
company. Penis ... cock ... Suzanne shook her head and tried to finish 
her steerburger, but found herself chewing without enjoyment; tasting 
without taste. She pushed the plate away in disgust, staring at the 
meat between the bun and again remembering another piece of meat she 
had chewed on, a hard, throbbing member with a broad flat head, and 
again Ted's obscene words rang in her ears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well?"

"Well, what?" he countered.

"I know you've been staring at me."

"Sure. I always stare at groovy chicks." 

Suzanne flushed.

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

Jeff laughed and stood up.

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

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

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

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

*   *   *

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

"Suzanne, is something wrong?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go away."

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

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

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

She heard him laugh softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come in."

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

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

He moved over to the couch and looked at her.

"You mind if I sit down?"

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

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

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

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

"And what about you?"

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

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

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

Donald looked up at her and smiled.

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

Suzanne's eyes widened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come, come."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suzanne stared at Donald, and her eyes were icy.

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

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

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

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

Ted pushed her forward, and she whirled on him.

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

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

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

Clayton's face broke into a knowing grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She heard Donald's voice.

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

"Shut up!"

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

Clayton chuckled and began undressing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Almost," he gasped.

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

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

She almost gagged.

"Lick it off your lips, lick it!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Look at that black motherfucker," said Ted. "He sure can fuck."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They began collecting their clothes and getting dressed.

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

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

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

"Get out," she spat.

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

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

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

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



Chapter 4


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

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

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

"Hey, anyone home?"

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

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

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

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

Suzanne wiped her eyes, and shook her head.

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

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

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

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

Suzanne looked at Yvonne, and her lip trembled.

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

"Jesus Christ!"

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

"You want to talk about it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suzanne looked at her friend, and smiled for the first time since the 
boys left the apartment.

"Thanks. I do appreciate this."

"Nonsense."

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

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

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

"Jesus. You going to call the police?"

Suzanne shook her head.

"That will only mean scandal, and it would be their word against mine. 
What can you do, really?" She sat down, and stared vaguely around the 
apartment. Carole whistled softly, and looked up at Yvonne.

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

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

Suzanne frowned, and stared up at Yvonne.

The sincerity and hate in the woman's voice was unmistakable.

"Yvonne, you ... you ..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You all right in there?" Yvonne's voice came ringing through the door.

"Yes. Fine."

The door opened, and Yvonne peeked around at her.

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

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

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

"Yvonne!"

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

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

"Well, feel better?"

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

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

"They did."

"The bastards."

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

Suzanne's eyes opened wide.

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

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

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

Suzanne nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

"You mean ... nothing was done?"

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

Suzanne thought a moment.

"I guess I'd better get checked out by a doctor, just in case."

Yvonne shrugged. "If you want to. I'd wait a few days, though. You'll 
know if anything's wrong in that department. As for being pregnant, I 
don't have to tell you how to know about that." Her tone softened, and 
her hand came out and squeezed Suzanne's arm. "You poor kid. It's rough 
to go through something like that when you've been protected all your 
young life."

Suzanne grinned. "Well, we live and learn."

Carole brought over the food from the stove and placed it in the middle 
of the table.

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

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

*   *   *

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suzanne smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, relax. Let mother do it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know. Relax."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That all right?" asked Yvonne softly.

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

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

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

Carole laughed.

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

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

Suzanne looked at her curiously.

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

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

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

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

"What's the matter, Suzanne?"

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

"Is it still hurting down there?"

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

"For Chrissake, Yvonne, quit screwing around."

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

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

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

"Cool it, Carole."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suzanne flushed and bit her lip again. Carole laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yvonne pulled away quickly and grinned at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're something else," she commented.

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

Carole laughed coarsely. "Amateur? Huh!"

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

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

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

Carole laughed. "Compliments will get you everywhere."

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

Yvonne smiled, and patted her on the shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yvonne and Carole exchanged looks.

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

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

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

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



Chapter 5


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi," said Suzanne.

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

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

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

"Okay, I think."

"That doesn't sound very convincing."

Suzanne shifted in the bed. "Oh, I've just been lying here thinking."

Yvonne heaved under a sudden attack of coughing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suzanne frowned and stared at her friend for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suzanne flushed. "Stop it."

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, maybe Donald."

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

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

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

Yvonne reached for another cigarette, and inhaled deeply.

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

"No, never."

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

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

"Okay. I'm sorry."

Suzanne paused a moment, then giggled wickedly.

"But if Donald comes back alone, and is nice to me, well, who knows?"

"Oh, you little bitch!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*   *   *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi, Suzanne, how are you today?"

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

"Fine, thanks, and you?"

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

"Sure is."

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



Chapter 6


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

She suddenly became aware he was addressing her.

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

The instructor smiled.

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

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

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

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

A student raised his hand.

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

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

The young man was not to be put off.

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

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

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

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

She nodded.

"There have been young men in the family?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's true. He doesn't care."

"And you do, I suppose?"

He paused awkwardly.

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

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

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

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

"Sure. What's wrong with that?"

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

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

"Hey."

She stopped, and looked back.

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

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

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

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

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

*   *   *

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

"Hey, Suzanne, you home?"

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

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

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

"Any sign of those monsters?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks. I can use a few compliments."

They both laughed, and Carole lit a cigarette.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You bet."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suzanne reached into the oven and took out the ham.

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

"We sure are. Gather round."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yvonne!!"

Carole's voice exploded across the room.

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

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

"Bitch!"

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

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

She mashed her cigarette out and looked in the package.

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

"Hm ..."

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

Carole sighed, and slowly got to her feet.

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

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

"Thanks a lot."

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

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

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

Yvonne nodded.

"Yup. We have our knock-down-drag-outs but as a rule, we get along 
pretty well. You see ..." Her voice softened ... "We love each other. 
That makes a big difference. You can put up with a little shit once in 
a while because the other times make up for it. And believe me, I know 
I'm not easy to live with."

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

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

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

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

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

"You're goddamn right, sister!"

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

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

"You motherfuckers get the hell out of here."

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

"Carole, run. Get the police."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clayton's booming laugh echoed around the room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



Chapter 7


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

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

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

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

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

"Donald," she whispered. "I want Donald."

Carole's eyes flashed, and Yvonne spoke up loudly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, wow, is this something!"

"Good tits, lookit them tits."

"Good pussy, baby, good pussy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, Donald," she moaned. "It feels wonderful."

"You, too," he replied, and her vagina responded with even greater 
contractions around his shaft.

"Oh, oh, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," he moaned quickly. "Oh, Jeez, 
I don't wanna, not now. Easy, easy. Stop, stop." He held his penis deep 
within her, and ceased any motion, but Suzanne couldn't stop. She had 
felt the beginnings of her own climax, and she wanted it then; she 
manipulated her hips, and her cunt gripped the shaft within her canal, 
and she humped herself on his rod. He groaned, and then began his 
movements once more, getting faster and faster, his body trembling, and 
his hands clawing all over. Then he opened his mouth and let forth a 
cry, and then his lips closed over hers, and their bodies shook as his 
penis ejaculated deep within her vagina; she felt the hot load of his 
come, shooting into her, and joining her own juices that oozed from her 
innermost depths, slickly sliding down her crevice, lubricating his 
shaft even more as it quivered with each shot; he moaned, and she felt 
like ten thousand bolts of lightning were going off inside her cunt; 
they shivered together until the last drop of his seed had been drained 
from his tube by her quickly contracting cunt, squeezing his shaft to 
get the last possible pleasure from it, buried in her; and then slowly 
she felt him begin to get soft and slide back out. She tried to relax, 
to grip him, to move her hips; anything to keep that wonderful piece of 
meat within her. But it was no use. He raised up and with a little 
plop! he pulled out; Suzanne looked down and saw his penis lying across 
his leg.

She reached out and took it in her slim fingers, holding it and 
caressing its length, pulling the skin back to expose the head. A last 
drop of come oozed out of his slit, and she bent down and licked it off 
with her tongue, tasting its saltiness, savoring its animal flavor 
before swallowing it, and looking up into his eyes. He was staring at 
her with frankly adoring sparkle; his mouth grinned at her, and his 
hand came out and stroked her hair.

"You're something else," he murmured.

"You, too," she replied, and her head went down and closed around his 
shaft, taking its softness within her mouth and licking gently with her 
tongue. He lay back and closed his eyes, savoring the sensations.

Clayton was working up slowly to his orgasm, getting little response 
from Yvonne, who was determined not to cooperate, despite her silent 
admission to herself that his penis was the best she had ever felt 
within her vagina; it was even bigger than Jeff's, and the boy knew how 
to work it. In, out, slow, fast, rotate it, let it slide out; he knew 
all the angles, but much as he tried he could not elicit any physical 
response from her. Perversely she lay still, her arms at her sides and 
a sneer on her lips. He tried to kiss her, but finally gave up, 
relishing only the feel of her flesh around his penis as he fucked her.

Ted was still pumping his organ in and out of Carole's mouth. He had 
moved up a little, so that his hands could reach her breasts, and he 
was pinching her nipples with one hand and feeling her cunt with the 
other, his finger probing her flesh and touching her clitoris. She felt 
the eager response in her loins and began moving. Finally Ted moved 
quickly down, plunged his organ into her quivering cunt, and lay flat 
on top of her as he ejaculated. He moaned heavily, but did not cry out. 
When he was through, he lifted up and pulled out, staring down at her. 
He looked over at Clayton.

"These two are cold as ice," he commented. "Come on, let's get with the 
other chick."

"I ain't come yet," said Clayton, "but I'm almost there."

"Good. Fuck Suzanne in the ass," said Ted, "and I'll get her in front."

Suzanne heard them, and her eyes opened wide. She looked at them as 
they crawled across the floor, ignoring Yvonne and Carole. "Donald," 
she whispered. "Oh, no, please ..."

"Shut up, bitch," said Clayton. "Poppa's comin' home."

"Yvonne!" Suzanne's voice wailed, and Yvonne looked over at her with a 
sneer on her face.

"Have at it, baby," she snapped. "Obviously you love it, you cheap 
little tramp. Fuck her, Clayton, give her everything you've got. She'll 
love that big black dick of yours up her ass."

Suzanne watched, fascinated, as Clayton approached, his penis thicker 
than normal, swollen and slick from the action with Yvonne. The skin 
was slid back, exposing the purplish head which looked so large she 
wondered how it would ever enter her anus. But then, over and above her 
feelings of fear, she knew she wanted it. She wanted to feel it 
penetrate her, to thrust deep within her, to violate her totally.

His dark hands clamped on her buttocks, and he moved his hips up so 
that his rod pushed between her cheeks and pressed against her anus. 
His fingers came around, one hand over her mound, the other on her 
stomach, and he gripped her firmly, moving his prick so that the end 
slid into her, and she gasped. The pain was excruciating.

"Oooh, easy," she gasped, and he laughed cruelly.

"Easy, she says. You know black boys don't do it easy, baby. We got the 
equipment and we know what to do with it. And you're gettin' it, hard 
and fast ... now!"

He pushed forward, and she felt his length slide into her, and she 
screamed. She felt sure he had ripped her open. Then slowly he began 
thrusting in and out, and with every movement she felt the warm glow-
return to her loins. His fingers were caressing her clitoris, and she 
moved in rhythm with him.

"Hey, Ted, come over here and do somethin' with this pussy," Clayton 
said. "Give it to her."

Ted slid across the floor until he was between her legs. He had been 
watching, fingering his penis, coaxing it back to firmness after 
shooting into Carole's mouth. He pushed Donald out of the way and began 
moving closer, pushing his half-hard cock towards Suzanne's dripping 
cunt.

"Okay, spread those legs," he said, and Suzanne felt the end of his 
organ penetrate her cunt-lips. Aided by his hand, it went in, and he 
pushed it in all the way. He lay facing her, his arms about her, 
holding her body close to him, and he lowered his mouth to her nipples 
and began biting them.

Suzanne felt herself being torn apart. She could visualize the white 
penis in her vagina and the black one up her rectum, massaging her 
insides, thrilling her as she had never dreamed possible, but at the 
same time she knew her anus was bleeding and incredibly tender; but she 
didn't care. She felt herself the center of a giant sex scene. She 
wished she had ten more cunts to take ten more cocks, and be fucked 
with ten times more violence.

"Ooooooh, oooooooh," she moaned. "OOOH, OOOOOOOOOH ... Fuck me, fuck 
me."

Vaguely she heard Yvonne's voice. "I'm leaving, you bastards. You can 
fuck that whore all night, but not while I watch."

"You stay where you are," growled Clayton. "You try and leave and 
you'll be flat on your back again."

Yvonne subsided, next to Carole, and they watched with mounting horror 
as Suzanne's body was cruelly ravished by the two boys.

Donald sat back on his haunches, his one hand playing with his penis, 
which was gradually getting erect again, his eyes glued on Suzanne's 
crotch, taking in everything as Ted rammed his penis in and out, only 
inches away from where Clayton's large thick black member was plunging 
in and out like a railroad piston at full steam. Suzanne was rolling 
from side to side, her breasts flopping obscenely.

"I'm there, I'm there," Clayton screamed suddenly, and his muscular 
body flexed as he held his organ within her anus, and she felt the hot 
rush of his seed deep within her intestines. His mouth came down on her 
shoulder and she felt the bite of his teeth, sinking into her flesh so 
that she cried out. She heard Yvonne's voice, "Suffer, you bitch, 
suffer!" For a moment, she wondered why Yvonne was suddenly so 
antagonistic towards her. She couldn't help her reactions; she was only 
a normal red-blooded girl giving vent to her natural desires. Or was 
she? Wasn't she rather some perverted trollop eager for cheap sex kicks 
and not caring how she got them? No matter. Fuck. Fuck. In, out. Go, 
Clayton, give me every drop of that jism up my ass. Go, Ted, go. Shoot 
that hot come up my twat, again, like Donald did.

Poor Donald. He was staring at her with the strangest expression. She 
didn't care. She was the center of everything now. She was being lifted 
higher and higher. She felt Ted's organ flex and then he rammed in, and 
shouted out, "Wow, again, again, oh, wow, baby!" And she knew he had 
achieved a second climax. Her cunt ran with all the juices being pumped 
into it, and she could feel it dripping out between her thighs, making 
a squishy sound with every thrust of Ted's hard organ into her.

She looked over and saw Donald's face slowly being transfigured with 
ecstasy as his hand masturbated his penis faster and faster. She knew 
what was happening to him, and a few seconds later she saw the white 
fluid spurt from the end of his cock, shooting over the rug, and then 
slowly dripping from his cockslit. Oh, if she had only known; she 
wanted his penis in her mouth. She wanted to taste that come on her 
tongue again. She cried out, and he stared at her, then, realizing her 
want, he moved quickly forward. She took his still-hard prick in 
between her lips and sucked hard, drawing out this last of his come and 
convulsing herself inside as she tasted it. Her insides seemed to twist 
and erupt as she let the come slide down her throat, feeling his rod 
flex in her mouth.

This was the ultimate, she thought; I have a big black dick up my rear 
end; I have a thick white one in my cunt, and a beautiful white one in 
my mouth. What more? What more could a girl want, except maybe one in 
each hand, jerking them off. Her mind suddenly seemed to leave her 
body, and with a shudder she relaxed and floated, sublimely unaware of 
anything but the glorious sensations that she felt in every particle of 
her body.

Slowly she came back to earth, feeling Clayton's massive phallus 
withdrawing from her, just as Ted's prick was softening in her cunt and 
sliding out. She continued sucking on Donald, and her fingers were 
caressing the inside of his legs, cupping his sac in her hands and 
playing with his balls. She nibbled on his foreskin, pulling it back 
and forth over his head with her teeth and licking across the end of 
his cock, feeling the deep slit with the tip of her tongue. His hands 
were gently playing with her hair, and he stared down at her with a 
tender expression on his youthful features.

Her anus was stinging and almost insensitive, but as Clayton's cock 
popped out, she felt a stab of pain, and she jumped and cried out. The 
boys all got to their feet and stood, surveying her. She groaned, and 
sat up.

"Oooh, you've split me," she said instinctively, imagining her anus a 
wide bloodied mess.

"Serves you right," snapped Yvonne, and they all turned to look at her 
and Carole, who were huddled together, looking forlorn and miserable. 
Carole's face was impassive, but Yvonne's held a look of undisguised 
hate and disgust.

Clayton grinned and humped his crotch obscenely at her.

"Whatsamatter, baby? You want some of the action again?" he jeered. 
"That cunt of yours ain't worth a cent, I'll clue you. This chick here 
really gets with it." He pointed to Suzanne. "She sure has an educated 
asshole."

"Most whores do," snapped Yvonne, and Carole tried to shush her, but 
she shrugged off the girl's restraining hand from her shoulder. "No, I 
won't shut up. If these bastards can do what they want, I sure as hell 
can say what I like."

Ted laughed coarsely, and smiled at Suzanne.

"Don't you worry about that old bat," he said. "You're the best fuck 
I've ever had. And you give the best blowjob, too." He sneered at 
Carole. "Better than this broad. She doesn't know what the hell to do. 
But you ..." He nodded vehemently ... "You sure make this thing feel 
good." He took his penis and waved it at her.

Despite the pain in her anus and her apprehension at Yvonne's caustic 
comments and her expression of disgust, Suzanne felt a glow within her. 
She had done good! These boys, obviously well experienced at sex with 
many girls, had given her more than a passing grade; with only two days 
experience at sex, she had rated a high score! She felt a twinge of 
pride and accomplishment inside, and her body glowed with renewed 
pleasure. She smiled up at Donald, who grinned back at her.

"She's the greatest," he said, and there was a warmth and sincerity in 
his voice.

"Okay, okay," said Clayton, reaching for his clothes. "I guess that's 
it for now, chick-a-biddies. We'se movin' on." He grinned evilly. "I 
got a hot date at eight. Another white chick," he added, leering at 
Yvonne. "She's 'bout as old as you, but she digs my big dick. And she 
knows what to do with it, too. Come on, guys, let's go."

The boys got dressed quickly and walked to the door. Suzanne remained 
on the floor, staring up at them with a curious mixture of admiration, 
distrust, and relief that it was over. They paused at the door, and 
Clayton looked back, his hand on the wall as he surveyed the three 
naked girls on the floor.

"Jest in case you git any ideas," he drawled. "I wanna remind you it 
ain't no use tryin' to cause trouble. Understand?"

Yvonne's voice shot across the room like the crack of a revolver. 
"Listen, stud, there's going to be a patrol car outside this building 
every night from now on, so you watch it. If any of you ..." Her eyes 
went from Clayton, to Ted, to Donald, and the hate in her expression 
was unmistakable ... "any of you show your faces here again, it's going 
to be bad news. It's not three against one now. It's three against 
three, and you know goddamn well who they're going to believe. So get 
your asses out, and don't come back."

Ted and Donald exchanged a look, and then they both stared at Clayton. 
Their expressions of cocky assurance faded slightly, and Donald moved 
out the doorway, followed by Ted. Clayton stood a moment longer, his 
eyes going from Yvonne to Carole to Suzanne. He laughed, a little 
uncertainly.

"Up yours," he muttered, and then he was gone, slamming the door as a 
final gesture of defiance.

The room echoed to the bang of the door, and as silence descended the 
girls heard the clatter of footsteps receding down the stairs.

They all reached for their robes, and quickly wrapped them around their 
bodies. Yvonne's breathing was heavy, and her eyes flashed. Suzanne 
stared at her, and then at Carole, not sure of what to say.

"Okay, okay, you're sorry, that's what you're going to say, is that 
it?" snapped Yvonne, finally breaking the silence. "Well, let me tell 
you, Suzanne, I'm thinking that you've encouraged those pricks ..."

"Yvonne!" It was Carole's voice that exploded with disbelief at her 
friend's accusation. Suzanne was so stunned she was speechless.

"Shut up, Carole. Don't tell me you didn't see the way this little 
whore was enjoying it? She loved every frigging minute of it. She loved 
having those cocks jammed into her. Anyway she could, she was taking 
it. And she loved it. Christ, a cock-lover and a nigger-lover as well! 
Let me tell you, Suzanne, I'd like to puke all over you right now."

Suzanne's eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head helplessly; 
she was appalled by Yvonne's reaction.

"You're being ridiculous," said Carole staunchly. "Don't tell me you 
think Suzanne enjoyed what they did to her ...?"

"Hah!" Yvonne's voice could be heard ten blocks away. "Hah!"

"Yvonne, listen to me," Suzanne said, her self-composure returning 
suddenly, despite the tears that were streaming down her face. "Yvonne, 
please! You're ... you're not making sense."

"No, my girl, it's you who doesn't make sense. You came crying to 
Carole and me, saying how you'd been defiled and violated and all that 
shit, and here they're back, and you actually ..." She paused, taking a 
deep breath.

"You actually said you'd like Donald. You showed them you wanted that 
little prick. And you enjoyed it, every goddamn fucking minute, whether 
it was Donald or those other two studs. Jesus, you're sick, that's all 
I can say."

Suzanne's temper rose. "Sick? Oh, so that's it now. I'm sick? What 
about you? Maybe if you had a big dick up your cunt more often, you 
wouldn't be the way you are."

"Suzanne!" It was Carole who cried out, her voice hurt and 
disbelieving. "You don't know what you're saying."

"No, it's Yvonne who doesn't know what she's saying. And she doesn't 
know what she's doing, either. She's a horny old dyke, but at least I'm 
a horny young girl who knows what feels best. Don't you accuse me of 
being sick, Yvonne. Sure I chose Donald, but you know why? Because he's 
tender and I knew he wouldn't hurt me as much as the others might. I 
knew I'd get something out of it, and I did. Donald is wonderful and I 
did enjoy what he did to me. But don't tell me I enjoyed the others. 
You want to come over and see my bleeding asshole? I feel like a 
truck's been driven up my rear end."

"Yeah, and a truck'd probably fit," snapped Yvonne. "You're a little 
high-class whore, and I'm sorry I didn't realize it before. We've never 
had any problems with neighborhood kids before. You move in, and what 
happens? We get attacked and we can't do a thing about it. Well, I 
happen to have a few friends downtown, and I meant it when I said 
there'll be a patrol car outside this building. I'm going to make sure 
those three bastards get their asses thrown inside for one reason or 
another."

"That's not going to help," said Carole resignedly. "And you know it. 
They've probably got records a mile long already."

Yvonne's shoulders suddenly slumped, and she sighed. She turned, 
reaching for her cigarettes, and sat in a chair, puffing furiously, 
while Carole and Suzanne stared at her silently.

"Okay, okay." Yvonne spat the words out.

Suzanne's temper subsided, and she felt the tears welling up again. 
Before she knew it, she was weeping hysterically into her hands, her 
shoulders shaking and her body wracked with sobs. Carole moved over, 
putting her arm around Suzanne and holding her close.

"Come on, come on," she murmured, "it's over. Let's not argue any 
longer. Please, Yvonne ..." She turned and looked at her friend. 
"Yvonne, what you said was awful. You didn't mean it, I know. Tell 
Suzanne you're sorry."

Yvonne's thin eyebrows disappeared into her hair.

"Me say I'm sorry? Carole, you've lost your mind. No, baby, I believe 
what I said. And there's no use denying it. She enjoyed every fucking 
minute of it, and she'd probably have each one of them back if she 
could. Come on, Carole, I'm leaving."

She rose and walked to the door. Carole stared at her and slowly shook 
her head.

"No, Yvonne, don't. Please, Suzanne's your friend. You can't let 
something like this turn you against her. What are friends for? Can't 
you see she needs us now? More than ever. Come, sit down. I'll make 
some coffee."

Yvonne paused at the door and sneered.

"Suzanne was right, you know, Carole. I am an old dyke, and she doesn't 
know much about dykes. Maybe this'll be a lesson to her. I'm leaving, 
and I'm not coming back."

Suzanne wiped her eyes and struggled to her feet, her face flushed with 
anger.

"Just a minute," she shouted. "Remember last night? Remember how I came 
to you for help, how I was sore, frightened and needed a friend? And 
what happened? You put the make on me. Sure, I'm learning about dykes. 
They're after the same thing those boys were. Sex. Sure, I joined in. I 
loved it. You taught me something new, something I didn't know about, 
and I had a ball. But don't get all moralistic now. You've got no 
reason to be, Yvonne. You're just as bad as those boys. The only 
difference is they have cocks, and you don't. And believe me, baby, 
I'll take a hard cock any day over what you can do. What they did to me 
might not be the best way to go about sex, but at least it was normal. 
And believe me, I'm normal, and I plan to stay that way, no matter how 
well you know how to suck pussy."

"Suzanne! Stop it, stop it!"

Carole's voice rose above her own, and then suddenly Suzanne collapsed 
on the couch, weeping uncontrollably, her sobs echoing round the room. 
Yvonne stood, breathing heavily, her eyes downcast, and her fingers 
twitching. Carole went to Suzanne, and sat, patting her shoulder. She 
looked up at Yvonne, and shook her head sadly.

"We've all got our cross to bear," Yvonne said cryptically. "You 
coming, Carole?"

The other girl nodded, and rose, looking down at Suzanne; then she 
followed Yvonne out of the room. The door closed behind them, and 
Suzanne continued to lie on the couch, hardly aware that they had left, 
her body wracked with dry heaves as her emotions consumed her self-
control.



Chapter 8


Suzanne lay on her bed, staring out the wide window at the whitecapped 
Detroit River. In the distance a lonely tug broke the silence with its 
mournful hoot, and a flock of birds was silhouetted against the clouds, 
flying north to Canada.

She stretched, lifting her arms lazily; she smiled, and snuggled back 
against the pillow. For the hundredth time, she reached for the letter 
on the nightstand, opened it and read, an extra smile of pleasure 
creasing her face.

A brief knock at the door heralded its opening, and Mrs. Delacorte 
walked in, carrying a breakfast tray.

"How many times are you going to read his letter?" she said, her 
normally prim face relaxed in a sympathetic grin.

Suzanne folded the paper and pushed it back in the envelope.

"Every hour until he gets here," she replied happily. "Oh, Mother, I'm 
so excited."

"I guess I would be, too," said Mrs. Delacorte, placing the tray across 
the bed. "Come on, I've fixed your breakfast myself today. Scrambled 
eggs the way you like them, sausage and toast and coffee. Your father 
says I'm spoiling you."

Suzanne laughed, and looked affectionately up at her mother. "Sit down 
and talk," she said.

"I was intending to," said the older woman. "After all, since you left 
home, I've missed our little chats. It's good to have you back."

"I know. I'm glad to be back, too."

Mrs. Delacorte lit a cigarette from the box on the nightstand, and 
leaned back, her eyes resting lovingly on her daughter.

"You're certainly looking better than you did when you returned," she 
commented. "I can't tell you how unhappy I was with your living in that 
dreadful slum."

"It wasn't that bad," Suzanne admitted, sipping her coffee. "But ... 
well, there's no place like home."

Her mother nodded. "Especially when it's clean, modern and 
comfortable," she said. "Tell me, what really made you decide to move 
back? I mean, I had fully expected you to return, but not quite so 
soon."

Suzanne hesitated, and took a mouthful of sausage and eggs before 
replying.

"Well, lots of things, really," she said guardedly. "I guess, to be 
honest, I got tired of slumming."

"Spoken like a true Grosse Pointer," said Mrs. Delacorte, and they both 
laughed, knowing the humor of her statement.

"Truthfully, I wanted to stay, but the neighborhood is really worse 
than I had expected."

"Why do you think the city's tearing it all down?" asked her mother. 
"Another few years, and all those crummy buildings will be gone, and 
nice, new highrise apartments for students will take their place. And 
it's about time, too. Wayne's a good school, and I've never understood 
how they've put up with those ghastly people living in those old 
buildings, right next door, as it were. I mean, it's terrible that the 
poor have such bad living conditions, but I feel if half of them got 
out and worked, they wouldn't have to live like they do. It's a sad 
situation." She sighed. "I'm thankful that your father and I have been 
able to give you a good home and a respectable upbringing. I've often 
imagined what might happen if a girl grew up among those people." She 
shuddered. "I've been told that half of them are pregnant by the time 
they're sixteen."

Suzanne stared at her mother intently. Mrs. Delacorte's face had a 
tolerant look of distaste which accentuated the tiny wrinkles at the 
corners of her mouth and eyes, skillfully covered with a layer of 
makeup. Her hair was immaculate, and from her ears a pair of diamonds 
were suspended on small platinum chains. Her dress was a sophisticated 
black sheath, simple and tasteful, but obviously from Saks or 
Bergdorf's.

Suzanne had a passing mental image of Donald's mother, seated in her 
rundown apartment on Forest Avenue, her hair hanging in rat-tails, her 
coarse features devoid of makeup, and her breasts swinging obscenely 
under her cotton shift, while her bare feet rested on the torn linoleum 
rug, and the woman's drawling Kentucky accents echoed in her ears ... 
"Work? I dunno. There ain't much I can do. 'Sides, I git enough from 
welfare to get by."

Suzanne shivered and took another bite of toast.

"I learned a lot, I'll say that," she murmured, washing the toast down 
with a sip of coffee. "I'll probably have a real good grade in 
sociology, thanks to my research. My paper's coming along nicely."

"Good," replied Mrs. Delacorte vaguely. "It's a blessing that you're 
intelligent, my girl."

Suzanne stared at her mother, not quite comprehending the words which 
sounded out of context to what they had been discussing. But she 
decided to let it pass. There were many things her mother said which 
she realized were merely words to fill up time between what Mrs. 
Delacorte considered the important aspects of life.

"So when's Sam arriving?"

Suzanne smiled happily, and her heart beat a little faster.

"Five o'clock," she replied. "On BOAC. I'm going to be at the airport 
in plenty of time. I don't want to miss seeing the plane come in. Oh, 
Mother, I'm so happy."

"You look it, I'll say that for you." Her mother paused and smirked. 
"You are going to marry him, aren't you?"

Suzanne nodded emphatically. "Of course. I've always been in love with 
Sam."

"Hm. To be truthful, I had expected you to get married a few months 
ago, but then he suddenly upped and flew off to Europe. Did you by any 
chance have a tiff?"

Suzanne shook her head. "Nope. He just said he wanted to get away for a 
while," she lied. "But let's not talk about that. Sam's coming back, 
and just as soon as we can, we're going to be married."

"He asked you in his letter?"

"No. He didn't ask. He said so."

"Oh. Caveman tactics."

"No. He's aware how I feel. I guess he just took it for granted that 
I'd say yes, and I will. Oh, Mother, I can hardly wait."

Mrs. Delacorte sniffed. "Well, I want you both to have a talk with the 
minister first. You know, there are lots of things a young couple 
should know before getting married. And of course we'll have to send 
out the invitations and everything. Oh, I want you to have the biggest 
and best wedding that Grosse Pointe has ever seen. After all, Sam's 
family is well known, and it should be a real nice splash on the social 
pages."

Suzanne leaned back and wiped her mouth with the linen napkin.

"Mother, I'd just as soon have a quiet ceremony. I know Sam's not 
planning a big wedding. He's often said so."

"Suzanne, children do not arrange their weddings. Their parents do, and 
you're not going to deprive me of seeing my only daughter married in 
high style."

"But, mother, it's my wedding."

"I'll not discuss it any further, Suzanne," said Mrs. Delacorte, rising 
and lifting the breakfast tray off the bed. "You're going to have a big 
wedding and you may as well get used to the idea."

Suzanne sighed. "Yes, Mother."

"And don't look like that. You know you really want it, just like any 
other Grosse Pointe girl. Remember, you only get married once, and you 
may as well go all the way. It's not that we can't afford it, remember, 
like those other people."

"I know. But I think Sam'll want to get married right away, and a big 
wedding takes time, and there's so much planning and all that 
nonsense."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Delacorte's voiced rose three octaves. "Suzanne, you 
listen to me, my girl. I'll arrange everything, and you can get 
married, oh, say, in about a month or six weeks. Besides, that'll give 
you and Sam a little time together. After all, he has been away, and 
I'm sure you both have lots to talk about."

"I suppose so." Suzanne threw the covers back and stepped out on to the 
thick, plush carpet. "Mother, I think I'll shower and get dressed. 
Thanks for the breakfast."

Mrs. Delacorte picked up the tray and moved to the door.

"You're welcome, dear, and believe me, darling, it's so wonderful 
having you back home again. You've no idea how much happier I am, 
knowing you're back where you belong."

She left, closing the door behind her. Suzanne glided across the carpet 
soundlessly, and went into the pink and white tiled bathroom, 
resplendent with gold fixtures and a sunken tub. She stared at herself 
in the full-length mirrors, and slipped off her pajamas, standing naked 
while she surveyed her body.

She heard a voice echoing in her mind ... "Jeez, lookit them tits!" She 
closed her eyes, seeing Donald's naked body on top of her own, his 
mouth hungrily devouring her lips while his penis moved slowly in and 
out of her vagina.

With a quick shake of her head, she dismissed the memory, stepped into 
the tub, and turned on the faucet. As the stinging warm water splashed 
on her skin, she reached for the soap and began soaping herself all 
over, relishing the sensual feeling of her fingers and the spray.

It was nice to be home again, she thought, enjoying all the comforts 
that her parents' wealth afforded her. Yet there had been a cozy warmth 
to her little apartment on campus; if only it could have stayed that 
way, instead of being so violently disrupted by those boys. And Yvonne 
... poor Yvonne! Suzanne would never forget the look on the woman's 
face as she walked out of the apartment that night, her age and her 
frustrations deflating her expression, removing the constant forced 
sparkle and superficial gaiety. And Carole, whose eyes had betrayed her 
remorse even if her mouth had remained silent. Yes, it had been a bad 
scene, but as an experience, it had been invaluable. Even her 
encounters with the three boys had been a traumatic breakthrough for 
her, revealing her innate sexuality to herself and enabling her to 
dispel her inhibitions. She knew now that when she and Sam slid under 
the sheets, she would be able to satisfy him completely. And she knew 
instinctively that a wife who keeps her husband happy that way need 
never fear about his straying from home. Yes, she would be able to give 
Sam every type of sensual satisfaction he could possibly crave. Her 
body glowed at the thought, and she finished her toilet quickly, eager 
to be dressed and ready to go to the airport and meet him. Her heart 
beat quicker at the thought of seeing his handsome face once more, 
feeling his arms about her and his lips pressing on her own. Oh, Sam 
... Sam ... hurry home, darling, hurry home. My arms are waiting and my 
body is eager to feel you, naked and aroused, lying on top of me ...

*   *   *

Detroit Metropolitan Airport was crowded as Suzanne and her parents 
pushed their way through the mass of people to the arrival gate. 
Suzanne's hands were trembling, and she bit her lip as she moved, her 
body bumped by the throng of travelers disembarking. Her eyes were 
glued at the oncoming sea of faces, eagerly searching for the broad, 
handsome features and shock of brown hair that she had been dreaming of 
for so long.

"There he is!"

Mrs. Delacorte's voice cut through the babble like a knife, and Suzanne 
turned and stared.

"Oh, Sam!"

She rushed forward, and they were in each other's arms, and she felt 
his wide lips cover her own. Her arms held him tightly, and 
instinctively she opened her mouth and let her tongue lick across his 
lips for a second before breaking apart. Sam's large blue eyes were 
wide, and he laughed enthusiastically.

"Now that's what I call a welcome," he breathed. "Oh, Suzanne, it's so 
good to see you."

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and kept one arm around his waist 
while he shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Delacorte. He looked around.

"Mother and Dad didn't come?" he asked disappointedly.

"No, afraid not, Sam," said Mr. Delacorte, "Your father's in Chicago on 
business, and your mother wasn't feeling well. Nothing serious, just a 
touch of the flu."

"Oh, well, you're here," Sam said, looking at Suzanne. "That's all that 
really matters."

They walked back through the terminal and collected his two suitcases, 
and in ten minutes were driving back down the expressway towards 
Detroit, Sam sitting close to Suzanne in the back seat of the Delacorte 
Cadillac, while Mr. and Mrs. Delacorte rode up front, both keeping 
their eyes tactfully on the road, conscious that the two young people 
in the back would much rather be alone. Suzanne snuggled close, her one 
hand on the inside of Sam's thigh; his arm was around her, and every 
few seconds, they would lean close and kiss. Suzanne felt her loins 
responding, and she knew Sam was getting excited. She had already 
noticed the slight bulge in his pants, and inwardly she felt a glow of 
satisfaction. Oh, she could hardly wait 'til they were really alone. 
She wanted him so badly, she almost hurt.

"You're having dinner with us tonight," said Mrs. Delacorte 
imperiously, "Of course, we'll drop you off at your home first so you 
can say hello to your mother, but then you come on over. I know 
Suzanne's got lots of things to discuss with you, and we have to make 
plans for the wedding and everything."

Sam's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"Wedding?"

Suzanne squeezed his thigh.

"Of course, darling." She kissed him quickly. "Don't tell me you're 
turning me down?"

He grinned happily. "No, of course not," he said firmly. "But I thought 
at least you'd wait 'til I asked you."

Mr. Delacorte's gruff voice broke in.

"Sam, if Suzanne's like her mother, you don't stand a chance, take it 
from me. Mrs. Delacorte proposed and married me before I could say, 
Drop your drawers."

"Really!"

Mrs. Delacorte's acid tones were drowned by Sam's loud laugh and 
Suzanne's high-pitched giggle.

"At least you're not marrying her for money," Mr. Delacorte continued 
more soberly. "Which is comforting."

"I'm marrying Suzanne," said Sam evenly, "because I love her."

*   *   *

Suzanne steered the car carefully around the winding street. Her eyes 
were on the road, but she knew Sam's were on her, taking in every inch 
of her profile.

"Well," he murmured gratefully. "At last we're alone, really alone."

"I know," she replied. "My folks can be a real drag sometimes, but they 
mean well."

The car pulled up outside the large mansion.

"You coming in for a while?" asked Sam, putting his hand on her 
shoulder.

"Try and stop me," Suzanne answered.

They climbed out of the car and walked up the driveway arm in arm.

"That was a good dinner," said Sam inconsequentially.

"Mm."

"You going to cook for me when we're married?"

"Of course."

He laughed. "I thought maybe you'd want a cook like your mother has."

"Never. I'm going to cook for you, clean house, do everything for you."

"Everything?"

She squeezed his waist. "Everything."

"You sound terribly menacing."

"Maybe I am."

"I love it."

"And I love you."

She turned into him, moved her arms up around his neck, and pulled him 
to her, closing her lips over his. Breathlessly, they clung together, 
the warm breeze caressing their faces, and the bright moonlight turning 
Suzanne's hair to silver.

They broke apart and continued walking up to the front door.

"Mother's probably asleep by now," said Sam, opening the massive carved 
slab and ushering her inside.

"Good. We won't be interrupted then," said Suzanne, walking into the 
tiled entrance hall, her heels clicking softly.

He laughed softly.

"Are you planning to seduce me, young woman?"

She nodded.

"Of course. You really didn't invite me in for coffee now, did you?"

"Of course not."

"All right, then."

She walked into the wide living room, illuminated only by a small 
reading lamp at the far end. The warm glow gave her cheeks a sensuous 
patina, and Sam smiled as he approached her, took her in his arms, and 
kissed her gently.

"You're very lovely," he murmured. "And I've missed you terribly."

"Me, too. There wasn't a day I didn't wish you were back here. Oh, Sam, 
why did you ever leave?"

"You know why," he replied calmly. "I couldn't stand it any longer."

"Couldn't stand what?"

"Being with you, but still being at arm's length. You remember that 
night on Belle Isle?"

She nodded. "I'll never forget it."

"That's why. I figured I'd better get the hell away for a while. I 
think I did the right thing."

"Maybe you did. I've learned a lot since then."

"Like what?"

She moved away from him and over to a wide couch. She plumped down, and 
beckoned him to join her.

"Oh, lots of things. Like what a man expects from a girl, and how she 
should respond."

He laughed and sank into the cushions beside her. His hand went around 
her shoulders, and she leaned to him, her face tilted up invitingly. He 
kissed her quickly.

"Maybe I should see how you've changed."

"I haven't changed. I've just improved my education," Suzanne said with 
a giggle, her mind picturing her naked body on the floor of her 
apartment and Donald's body descending upon her.

"Well, I've had a few experiences myself," said Sam, his hand moving 
over to her breast and taking it gently in his fingers. "So maybe we've 
both grown up a little."

"Not a little," she replied, feeling her loins responding to his gentle 
caressing. "A lot."

Hungrily, she closed her mouth over his, and as their tongues met she 
slid her fingers between his legs and gripped his hardening shaft. As 
their tongues ravenously explored each other's mouths, Suzanne felt her 
emotions rising as her fingers felt his penis stiffen and throb. She 
reached for his zipper, and a few seconds later his naked organ was 
exposed, and her hand was holding it, her mind reeling under the impact 
of its size and thickness.

He broke away and leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes 
closed. He sighed ecstatically as he felt the surge of sensation 
through his groin as her fingers expertly pulled his foreskin back and 
forth over the head of his penis.

"Suzanne ... Suzanne," he breathed.

She felt the tiger inside her straining to break loose, and then it 
happened; she felt a shiver through her body, and her emotions rose as 
she lowered her head with a rush and closed her lips around the end of 
his shaft, sucking hard and firmly. Her fingers pushed into his pants 
and pulled out his balls and began fondling them, rolling them in her 
hand. She gloried in their size, and she felt her vagina oozing juices 
in anticipation of receiving that thick, long phallus in its hot, 
hungry cavern.

He groaned, and she felt his rod flex in her mouth. Her tongue flicked 
across the end of his glans, probing his wide cockslit, and her mouth 
moved up and down, taking his length all the way until she felt the end 
ram into her throat.

"Easy, easy," he whispered. "You'll make me come."

She raised up and stared into his eyes.

"Come, then," she whispered. "I want you to come."

Hungrily she went back to his staff, her fingers massaging the hilt and 
his balls while her lips sucked harder and harder. She felt it throb 
and expand, and then his hands came down on her head, holding her 
firmly as he gasped. She felt a jerk in his hips, and then the sweet, 
salty taste of his seed was on her tongue, load after load; she gulped, 
swallowed and continued sucking until he relaxed, exhausted, panting, 
and he took her head and pulled it up to his mouth, kissing her 
violently. Finally they broke apart.

Sam stared at her with wonder in his eyes.

"You have changed," he murmured. "Oh, Suzanne ..."

"I know," she whispered. "That was wonderful."

She went down on him again, sucking the last drops from his tube and 
nibbling on his foreskin, biting it gently and pulling it over his 
softening shaft, licking underneath it. He groaned and pulled her head 
off.

"Wait, wait," he pleaded. "Not so hard."

"What do you mean?" she said teasingly. "Am I too much?"

He laughed. "He's kinda sensitive after he shoots," he explained, and 
she giggled.

"Okay, I'll just let him lie in my mouth. Okay?"

She took his rod once more, letting it remain between her lips, feeling 
its softness, its thickness, and savoring the taste of his come. 
Finally she raised up.

"Okay," Suzanne said brightly. "Now you can take me upstairs to your 
room, and I'll really show you something."

He shook his head in amazement and tucked his penis back in his pants.

"I just don't believe it," he said, rising, and pulling her up beside 
him. "What's happened to you?"

"I went to Wayne for an education," she said cryptically. "And I've 
graduated, that's what."

"It makes me feel you've got a practical education rather than academic 
one," he said guardedly.

"Ask no questions, hear no lies," she laughed. "Come on, don't tell me 
you prefer a coy virgin who doesn't know how to fuck."

He gasped. "Suzanne!"

"Do I shock you?"

He shook his head.

"No, because I've not exactly been wasting my time in Europe," he said 
with a sly grin. "So maybe we can compare notes. In bed, of course," he 
added, squeezing her waist and leading her towards the stairs.

"Of course," she echoed. "Where else is there?"

Sam's heart was beating wildly as they entered his room, and he closed 
the door and clicked the lock. Suzanne walked over to the bed and 
bounced on it.

"Hm, nice and springy," she commented. "Not too much rebound."

"You're too much," he said. "Come on, let me undress you. I've always 
wanted to."

"The hell with you," she snapped pleasantly. "Undress yourself. It'll 
be quicker, and I want to feel you next to me, Sam." She ran across the 
room into his arms. "I want to hold you naked in my arms, and feel you 
slide into me, every inch of you. Sam, I want you to fuck me like no 
one else you've ever fucked."

He grinned at her.

"The same goes for you, you adorable little hussy," he said, and as he 
pulled his shirt off and undid his pants, his eyes gazed eagerly at her 
body as it slowly came into view as one by one her garments fell away 
until she stood, naked and unashamed before him, her breasts round, 
full and luscious, her slender waist and her wide hips with the 
enticing dark-blonde bush between her thighs. She noticed his sex 
beginning to rise again, and she lay back on the bed, her arms 
beckoning, and he came to her, lowering his body on top of hers, 
covering her, his penis between her legs and his arms around her.

She shivered as she felt his warm flesh against her own, and she opened 
her mouth for his tongue. They clung together, and she moved her hips 
under him, her excitement growing as she felt the hair on his chest 
rubbing against her nipples.

"Oh, fuck me, Sam, fuck me," she whispered.

He slid his mouth off her cheeks, down across her neck, and enclosed 
her breasts in his hungry lips, flicking his tongue across her nipples, 
going from one to the other, while Suzanne felt her loins heating up, 
the fire in her vagina not to be denied.

"Now, now," she cried out. "I want you in me."

Teasingly, his mouth slid over her stomach, and then with a rush he 
buried his face in her bush, her musky odor in his nostrils exciting 
him even more than the touch of her flesh.

With his hands he pulled open her crevice, exposing her red-hot flesh. 
His tongue found her clitoris, and he licked, and stabs of erotic 
arousal suffused her body. She began moving her hips and moaning 
loudly.

"More, more, suck it, suck it," she cried out, and his mouth bit her 
gently, his teeth closing round the hard nipple of her clitoris while 
his tongue went wild on her.

"Please, please," she urged him. "I want it in me, Sam, now, now."

He raised up. His penis was hard and throbbing once more between his 
legs, its foreskin stretched back exposing his broad flat red head, 
oozing lube from its slit. He threw one leg over her and gently lowered 
himself, pressing the end of his cock against her cunt-lips. She moaned 
and put her hand down to guide it in, thrilling at the touch of his 
size once more.

With a gasp he penetrated her and slid in all the way. As she felt his 
maleness enter, Suzanne gave a cry of ecstasy. Her insides convulsed 
and she knew the end of his prick was right up at the mouth of her 
womb. They fitted, perfectly; they were just the right size. His cock 
was everything she had hoped and dreamed it would be. With a sudden 
animal violence, she gripped his shaft with her vagina as he began 
thrusting in and out of her. She felt his balls slap against her flesh 
as he rammed home, deep into her, and her nails dragged across his 
back.

Eagerly he lowered his mouth to her breasts and began kissing them as 
he continued to move inside her, pushing his rod all the way in, then 
slowly withdrawing until it was almost all the way out, then going back 
in quickly, all the way. She was writhing in ecstasy, her physical 
responses heightened by the knowledge that finally it was Sam on top of 
her, finally it was the one she really loved, and they were together, 
fucking, not just for the mere animal satisfaction, but because they 
loved each other.

She had never known such feelings within her. Even with Clayton's 
enormous organ violating her; even Ted or Donald; even the undeniable 
delight of Yvonne's tongue; none of these compared with the thrills 
that flooded her, knowing it was Sam's penis within her vagina. It was 
Sam on top of her. Sam. Sam at last, she breathed, at last.

With a cry, Suzanne lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, 
pushing her hips closer to him and feeling the answering throb of 
additional excitement in his cock. Her insides convulsed and her vagina 
was wet with her juices as her hands clawed his skin and she felt her 
orgasm flood through her. Her mind floated up off the bed; her body 
seemed to spin suspended on the tip of his cock, which jerked and 
ejaculated its load into her innermost depths. He cried out, moaning 
and calling her name, and her throat was dry from the excitement and 
her calling out to him. "Oh, Sam, Sam, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me ..."

Slowly they subsided, and she felt him getting soft inside her. He 
lifted his head and stared into her eyes.

"Suzanne ..." he breathed. "It's never been like that before."

"Nor me," she replied.

"I love you."

"I know. I love you, too."

They lay still, enjoying the warm afterglow. His penis slid out and he 
lay beside her, letting her fingers hold his organ gently, while his 
fingers stroked her breasts.

They each had a million questions, but each knew instinctively not to 
ask them.

*   *   *

Mrs. Delacorte bustled into Suzanne's bedroom, where two maids were 
busily helping her into her wedding gown.

"Now, there's a bride for you," she said loudly, standing with one hand 
on her hip, surveying her daughter with pride. "You look absolutely 
ravishing, my dear. You always did look better in white, I think." 
Suzanne turned and smiled at her.

"Yes," Mrs. Delacorte said, "It sets off your coloring. You should be 
on the cover of McCall's. You look so pure and chaste. The perfect 
image of unsullied womanhood."

"Of course, Mother," replied Suzanne.

"Oh, talking of McCall's, the picture in today's paper is really 
lovely. Look."

Suzanne took the newspaper and stared down at the picture of herself on 
the social page.

"It is nice," she commented.

"Nice? It's beautiful," said Mrs. Delacorte. "But then, you are 
beautiful, Suzanne. I'm very proud of you, and so's your father. This 
reminds me of my own wedding. It seems so long ago now. Oh, dear, I 
mustn't cry, I mustn't. I'll ruin these new lashes." Carefully she 
dabbed her eyes with a filmy handkerchief.

"Mother, stop carrying on," said Suzanne. "I'm nervous enough as it 
is."

"All right, all right. You almost ready? The car's waiting."

"Yes, I'm ready."

She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She did look wonderful, 
she thought; the bodice fitted her perfectly, showing off her full, 
rounded bosom, and the waist tucked in, giving her a perfect figure. 
Yes, she did make a wonderful-looking bride. She lifted her head, 
turned, and followed her mother down the stairs.

As she was helped into the back seat of the Cadillac, she wondered what 
Sam was thinking at that moment. They had seen each other almost daily 
since his return, and their relationship had become closer and closer. 
She had slept with him almost every night, and with each encounter they 
discovered more about each other and the different ways to pleasure 
their bodies. Oh, Sam, she thought, you're the greatest lover a girl 
could ever want.

The car pulled away from the house, and the trees lining the driveway 
became a blur. She was only conscious of the wild excitement within her 
and the anticipation of the honeymoon. They had decided to go to 
Bermuda for two weeks, and then on to Rio and back through Mexico City. 
In all, they planned to be gone a month. "That's enough time to get 
acquainted," Mr. Delacorte had said, squashing his wife's notion of a 
three-month European tour for them as a going-away present. "After all, 
they're not going to be doing much sightseeing. What can you see from a 
hotel suite?" Mrs. Delacorte had sniffed and told him not to be coarse.

As the car approached the church in Grosse Pointe, Suzanne saw a small 
crowd outside. Her heart beat even faster as she noticed two 
photographers standing to one side, their cameras ready in their hands.

The car pulled up slowly, and her father walked down from the steps to 
help her out. There were gasps of envy from the women, and some man 
gave a low whistle. Suzanne grinned up at Mr. Delacorte, who nodded his 
approval.

"I'm happy for you," he whispered.

"Thanks, Daddy," she replied, and together they walked into the church, 
her lace veil and train billowing in the slight breeze.

The ceremony was brief, and Suzanne was not aware of anything but Sam's 
firm hand on her own and his deep voice repeating the vows after he 
minister.

"You may now kiss the bride,"

She felt Sam's soft lips on her own, a quickly her tongue licked his, 
and then they separated, flushing, and turned to walk down the aisle. 
On either side she saw the admiring glances of her friends, the smiles 
and whispered words of congratulation, and she felt a warm glow within 
her. She held on to Sam tightly, conscious that the strain was 
beginning to tell. It would soon be over and they would be away, alone 
again.

They paused at the entrance, and the photographers were standing there. 
The barrage of flashbulbs blinded her for a moment, and then the hail 
of rice descended and the excited shouts of the crowd gathered there. 
Sam helped her down the steps, afraid she might trip on her dress. 
Suzanne bent down and took the end of it, placing it over her arm. She 
raised up, and her eyes met another pair among the crush of people, a 
pair of blue eyes that stared at her with incredible longing and 
incredible sadness. She felt a stab within her heart, and she paused, 
unable to move, her attention held by the intensity of the gaze that 
burned from the youthful features. She felt herself unable to take 
another step, and was dimly aware of Sam's hand on her arm, pulling her 
forward, but her feet seemed riveted to the sidewalk.

"Come on," whispered Sam, and then he saw her expression. "You all 
right?"

She nodded vaguely, conscious of the sad young face in the crowd which 
threatened to burst into tears any second. The mouth quivered and 
formed the words: "I love you." She felt her catch in her throat.

"Oh, Donald," she whispered inaudibly to herself, and then she stepped 
forward, clinging to Sam's arm. As they climbed into the car, she felt 
the wetness on her own cheeks. Sam put his arm around her shoulders and 
sudden concern showed on his face.

"Darling, you're crying."

Slowly the car pulled away and drove quickly up the street, leaving 
behind the excited throng, cheering and waving hands excitedly, and one 
lonely young boy, standing apart and alone, his eyes blurring as he 
watched the limousine disappear around a corner.


The End
