A Forgiving Teacher
by Joanne Caldwell
(LLP-491)


FOREWORD 

The realm of sexual expression has remained one of controversy for many 
centuries, and undoubtedly will remain so for many more. There is no answer 
for the individual considering any particular form of sexual outlet, except 
that he must be true to himself. The mature individual who has achieved this 
sort of self-honesty and completeness will be little harmed or affected by 
the illogical or irrational opinions of others. 

In this exceptionally well written novel the author has cleverly woven this 
truth like an unseen thread throughout the entire work. Had the characters 
faced up to their unusual desires instead of trying to repress them, much of 
the anguish they suffered would logically have been avoided. 

The author does not claim this concept of opinion to be solely his own, nor 
a revolutionary thought. To the contrary, it has been expressed by the 
wisest thinkers through the ages. "This above all: to thine own self be 
true," was Shakespeare's way of saying the same thing; but it comes to us 
from still an earlier source, and one which not even the most rigid moralist 
can contest..."Happy is he that condemneth not himself for that which he 
alloweth himself. But he that doubteth is damned if he eat. " Those who deny 
others sexual pleasures by quoting the Scriptures would be well advised to 
consider this quote from Romans. 

No doubt this era could be called the age of sexual enlightenment. That this 
ultimately will be for the benefit of all mankind is obvious merely by 
looking at the past and previous ages of enlightenment. But even a brief 
glance backwards will also reveal that, in such times, honored traditions 
and concepts were re-examined, and many times discarded. What was considered 
fact was found to be imagine. In short, the excuse that "it isn't done" or 
"it's shameful" will no longer suffice in denying man a specific form of 
pleasure. 

The author has published many volumes of contemporary fiction with us. We 
offer no further comment, except our extreme pleasure in. presenting this 
timely work. We now suggest that you read it and draw your own conclusions. 
A work of art, no matter how contemporary, should speak for itself. 

-The Publisher 

 CHAPTER ONE 

Porterville Youth Ranch had all the outward appearances of a guest farm for 
kids whose parents had money. There were horses ambling about the dusty 
pastures, neat rows of irrigated crops, a large barn, several brick cottages 
sprinkled about the expansive grounds, and one large, imposing building in 
the center. 

The name was deceptive Porterville Youth Ranch was in fact, a euphemism for 
the Juvenile Rehabilitation and Correction Facility of Porter County, 
Nevada. With a few exceptions, the kids there were from very unrich 
families; broken families, or no families, or those with parents who 
couldn't or didn't want to cope with delinquent children. Porterville Youth 
Ranch was an alternative to jail, or perhaps, a prelude to it...a place that 
most law-abiding citizens chose to call "reform school." 

However, as "reform schools" go, Porterville was supposed to be a model 
community, and a lot of taxpayers' money had gone into its planning and 
construction. The concept was unique: minimal security, minimal supervision 
of unstructured activities. Meals came promptly at 8, 12, and 6. Ranch 
chores began at 6:00 AM and resumed at 4:00 PM until dinner time. Classes 
were held from 8:30 until noon; vocational training and craft workshops 
consumed three hours in the afternoons; sports were mandatory on the 
weekends, as was Sunday chapel. It was on Sundays that the children were 
allowed visitors. Discipline was implicit in the regimentation; it was 
explicit for infractions of the countless "No's, for violation of the honor 
system (only the most intractable youths were incarcerated in the big 
building; the majority of the "students," as they were called, were free to 
roam the 350 acre ranch which was electrically fenced and cross-fenced and 
thirty miles from the nearest town, encircled by a formidable wall of 
barren, granite mounttains...) and for "fraternization" (read, "sex play" of 
any kind between two or more people of any age or gender.) 

Yes, there were women at Porterville; women nurses, teachers and 
housemothers. There were also female "students" between the ages of twelve 
and sixteen. Naturally the presence of the females taxed the ingenuity of 
the boy "students" who were of comparable age; most of their free moments 
were spent in figuring out how to get a piece of ass without the "Old Man" 
finding out the "Old Man" being Warden Blanchard, a tight-lipped, 
by-the-book sonofabitch who made damned sure nobody did anything to rock the 
sweet little boat he had for himself. After thirty years of riots, hunger 
strikes, stabbings, fires and bad food at the State pen, where he had come 
close to death a number of times at the hands of hardened cons, he had 
finally landed this cushy, political appointment babysitting a bunch of 
snot-nosed little bastards paradise! Six more years, just six more years, 
and it was the little fishing cabin in the Sierra! 

* * * 

Thelma Matthews felt a sudden thump on the back of her head. She turned 
quickly, looking over her shoulder towards the back of the room, the 
direction in which the flying missile had come. Richie Perrera was facing 
the front of the room, where Jenkins, the algebra teacher, was writing out a 
complicated looking equation on the blackboard. Richie's eyes, however, were 
slanted in Thelma's direction. He used them to motion to the object on the 
floor beside her desk. Carefully she reached down to pick it up, bending 
down imperceptibly, without taking her eyes from the teacher. 

"Brooks needs a Candy Barr, his first. How about a goody for his sweet 
tooth? Give you some of my stash...OK, Sugar?" Thelma crumpled the note into 
a ball again and popped it into her mouth as Jenkins turned around. 

"Are you chewing gum, Thelma?" he questioned. 

"N-no sir." she blinked, swallowing the hard little wad of paper. A muffled 
titter circulated the room. 

"Just so we know the rules." Jenkins said sarcastically. 

When Jenkins turned to the blackboard again, Richie made a sign with his 
thumb and forefinger to the little skinny kit two seats away from him. There 
was a confident smirk on his face. The kid reacted with surprise and a 
certain anxiety. He brushed an imaginary lock from his forehead, as he 
always did when he was nervous. Geez, Richie was fantastic! Not that he 
thought his friend's scheme would work, but the guy had guts all right, 
setting him up for his first lay, and right under the old Man's nose! 

An eternity later, the loud brass bell on the wall signaled the arrival of 
the 12:00 lunch hour. 

Mass exodus from the classroom. Brooks caught up to the broad-shouldered, 
good-looking boy who was his best friend at the ranch. Opposites attract, 
and never more so than in this curious, Mutt-and-Jeff friendship between the 
little sandy-haired egghead and his Puerto Rican mentor, who was the "bad 
boy" of Porterville. 

Richie Perrera was big for his age and much more knowledgeable about 
everything than most of the kids at the ranch. He had a particular mistrust 
deep loathing of adults in general, and of authority figures in particular. 
He took countless chances, proving at every opportunity that he was smarter 
than they were, that he was better at almost everything and Brooks had to 
agree it was true. Richie was a fantastic athlete, a facile talker, a 
charmer with women and with men, when he had to talk his way out of a rap an 
expert mechanic (he knew more about cars than anybody) and he could do 
anything with his hands, including the most sensitive drawings and water 
colors. His artistic ability was particularly appreciated by Miss Warner, 
the Arts and Crafts Rehab Teacher. In fact, Miss Warner seemed to like a lot 
of things about Richie, and not all of them were artistic! She was always 
asking him to help out on special projects. 'Course, she might have felt 
sorry for Richie after all, he was an orphan kid who'd been kicked around 
from one foster home to another, often beaten and mistreated by "parents" 
who didn't give a shit about him; people who only wanted to rip him off to 
get their dough ,from the state. No wonder he learned how to live by his 
wits; no wonder he grew up hiding his hurt with hate. 

In some ways Richie was luckier than he was though, Brooks thought. It was 
probably better to have no parents than to have a mother and father who were 
both hopeless alcoholics...parents who probably didn't remember half the 
time that they had a twelve year old son, or what his name was. That's why 
he'd started to steal little things at first, like gum and yo-yo's and cap 
guns, and then, bigger things, like bicycles and B-B guns. He needed 
attention from somebody even if it was the cops. 

"She wouldn't do it, would she?" Brooks asked his dark-haired friend. He was 
almost hoping for a "No." 

A slow grin spread Richie's lips. "Whatsa matter? you're not scared, are 
you?" he teased, knowing that Brooks was scared as hell. "Has your ol 
compadre ever let you down yet?" 

"Well, no...but, when?...where." 

"Let's eat. But don't stuff your gut you're gonna get a little piece of ass 
for desert!" 

Brooks stopped in his tracks. "Wha-at? You mean at lunch time? In...in broad 
daylight?" 

"Yeah, well it's usually light out at noon, isn't it? Although you may find 
a dark corner in the art supply room." 

"Man, you're crazy! I can't screw her in the art supply room!" gasped 
Brooks. 

"Well, then, how about Blanchard's office! Come on!" the youth motioned 
impatiently. Brooks meekly followed him to the cafeteria. 

* * * 

Brooks sipped the last of his root beer, making a rude sucking sound with 
his straw among the melted remains of ice cubes. Then he pushed the 
Styrofoam cup aside, neatly squared off the textbooks on the table and 
brushed the non-existent lock of hair from his forehead. He looked at the 
big wall clock 12:20. It was time. Richie had left the cafeteria at 12:15; 
Thelma would appear at 12:35. That gave him fifteen minutes to get laid. Not 
much time, but it was enough to make him a man! 

Brooks scooped up the stack of textbooks from the table and tried to look as 
cool as possible as he sauntered out of the noisy lunch hall. His palms were 
sweating, and his heart had begun to pound furiously in his narrow chest. 

He still couldn't believe it was really going to happen, that after all 
these months, with nothing to witness his burgeoning sexuality except the 
stains on his bedsheets night after night, he was finally going to get his 
first piece. Guys talked about getting screwed all the time, and here he 
was, a "virgin." But Richie had fixed it up for him, and it was really going 
to happen. So what if it was Thelma Matthews, the whore of Porterville. Poor 
kid her old man was a smack head. He had her turning tricks for him when she 
was eleven years old to keep him in fixes. They should fry his ass for that! 
But Thelma was still a cute chick, with a good body, too. 

Still he was so nervous he thought he'd wet his pants. Badly as he needed 
what Thelma could give him, he was kind of hoping that she wouldn't show. 

No such luck good or bad! Brooks heard quiet whisperings as he approached 
the art supply room. He looked around, to make sure " there weren't any 
proctors around. Then he gently opened the metal door and peered inside. 

Thelma was lying back on some huge foam pillows that had been used as part 
of an "environment" exhibit the crafts class had put together. Her skirt was 
so far up her thighs that Brooks could see her white panties. In spite of 
his nervousness, it was an alluring sight. Already he could feel his penis 
becoming erect in his jockey shorts. 

"She's all yours." came Richie's confident voice from another corner of the 
half-light room. 

"Hi, Bashful." Thelma teased, uncrossing her legs to give Brooks an even 
more exciting glimpse of her sheer panties and the little wisps of dark 
pussy hair that curled around the inner edges of them. Brooks felt the blood 
rush to his face as Thelma smiled, her eyes charting his whole body in a 
calculated glance. 

"Why don't you come over here?" she beckoned, doing a thirteen years old's 
imitation of Mae West. "Matter of fact, why don't you come over here and 
take your clothes off? I haven't had lunch yet, you know I've got to get to 
the cafeteria pretty soon." 

"Oh...oh, sure, Thelma. I forgot. I'm sorry." Brooks stammered. 

"Cut the apologies just drop your shorts." Thelma ordered dryly. She was 
beginning to unbutton her blouse. 

Brooks continued to blush. With trembling fingers, he fumbled with the 
buttons of his own shirt, feeling his cock twitch more determinedly in 
response to Thelma's full breasts emerging from the unbuttoned blouse. They 
were barely concealed under a thin, cotton bra. Soon, that too was removed, 
as was her skirt and half-slip, and the white nylon panties. 

Brooks almost gasped aloud at the sight of her furry cunt. Then the nervous 
twelve year old felt obliged to avert his eyes in shame as he dropped his 
jeans and peeled his jockey shorts down, allowing his hard-throbbing cock to 
spring suddenly into lewdly shocking freedom. 

"Show him what to do, Thelma." directed Richie. 

"You bet I will!" the juvenile prostitute affirmed. "Commere, lover boy. 
Mama's got some nice, warm cupcakes for you..." she cooed seductively, 
cupping both hands under the heavy, upright mounds of her breasts. 

It was like a dream. Brooks could hardly believe what was happening. But he 
needed no further invitation. 

Stepping out of his shoes and jeans, leaving himself totally naked except 
for his white crew socks, Brooks moved forward and grabbed both of Thelma's 
breasts in his hands. He clumsily massaged them with his sweating fingers, 
then hesitantly put his head against her cleavage, brushing her flesh with 
the soft little bristles of his closely cropped hair. He put his salivating 
mouth awkwardly over the nipples, first one, and then the other feeling 
embarrassed at his actions. He was doing what Richie had told him to do, but 
he didn't feel at all sure of himself. 

Then Thelma stepped back and lay down on the big pillows, pulling Brooks 
down with her. She parted her thighs wide, making room for him to nestle his 
body between her legs. Then she took hold of one of his wrists, guiding his 
hand down to the warm nest between her thighs; encouraging him to stroke the 
forbidden little slit of her pussy with his finger. To his complete 
surprise, the little box grew moist under his touch, which excited him even 
more. Then he really gasped in excited anticipation as Thelma took hold of 
his boyish cock, bending it downward to brush the lips of her hot little 
pussy. 

It's really going to happen! he was thinking incredulously. He was just 
seconds away from becoming a man. His cock was that close to the mouth of 
her cunt. No longer would he be a virgin punk, the laughingstock of the 
other boys at the ranch. He could already feel the swelling in his chest as 
pride flourished within him. 

Only afterward would he be able to sort out what had happened, and even 
then, it would be a blurred carbon of the original. 

"Cheesit!" came the strangled expletive from Richie, who was standing watch 
at the door. 

"Eeeeeeeeeek!" came the piercing little scream in his ear as Thelma squirmed 
out from under him. 

"OHHHHH!" seconded the woman's voice. He would remember it later as Miss 
Warner's. 

"Thud!" was the sound of his own body as he fell hard on the supply room 
floor. At another moment, he would remember the tickle of Thelma's pubic 
hair against his loins as she scrambled out from under him. 

"What's going on here, Miss Warner?" thundered the Old Man's voice from down 
the hall. 

"Oh...eh, nothing, Warden...I was...just going to get something from the 
supply room, but I changed my mind. It can wait." 

"Really? I think not, Miss Warner!" 

Brooks was still on his elbows, his bottom resting on the cold floor, 
looking upside down at the face behind the gravelly voice. He was crimson, 
from his head to his crew socks. From somewhere out of the corner of his 
eyes, he got a brief but perfect little glimpse of the glistening slit of 
Thelma's cunt and the pink pucker of her anus as she stooped to grab her 
sweater and panties before darting behind some large canvases to finish 
dressing. 

"All right, you little punk, get up and get your clothes on!" the warden was 
growling over him like a talking Tower of Pisa. The heavyset man looked even 
more formidable from that perspective than he looked normally and he was not 
an inch less than six feet two! 

Brooks grabbed for his jeans and managed to make the Guiness Book of World 
Records for getting-into-a-tight-pair-of-jeans-while-sitting-on-the-floor. 
He set another record as he got his sport shirt around his frail torso with 
the speed of a special cinematographic effect and stuffed the jockey shorts 
into a back pocket and followed Thelma, Richie, Miss Warner and the Old Man 
down the hall, walking into his laced up sneakers as he went. 

"Hey, Holliman," a kid snickered, "Didja get laid first?" 

 CHAPTER TWO 

The warden was addressing the four figures who stood in a semicircle on the 
other side of the big oak desk. 

"All right, let's have it." he barked tersely. 

For a moment, nobody spoke. 

"Maybe a week in the meditation room will jog your memory, Perrera." The 
meditation room was a vicious sobriquet for solitary a six-by-six foot cell 
with only a hard steel bed, a small basin and a seat-less toilet. It was 
considered the worst punishment for severe violations of the rules. The kids 
couldn't bear to be locked up; alone, with no one to talk to, not even the 
"proctor" who, wordlessly mailed the trays of food through the shallow slot 
in the door. 

The green-eyed, willowy blonde woman spoke up quickly: "Please, Warden 
Blanch-ard," she entreated, please don't do that. Richie was only standing 
by the door." 

The warden frowned and looked at her severely. Then the faintest smirk 
crossed his lips. "He was only standing by the door..." he mimicked. "And 
who the hell you think engineered the whole disgraceful scheme? Who's behind 
every dirty little caper at Porterville? Huh? Let me remind you, Miss 
Warner: I am running a state-endorsed correctional institution for juvenile 
offenders not a ruddy playground for junior pimps! even if they are 
teacher's pets!" 

Lorie Warner blanched noticeably. She was enraged at the pointed 
accusations, and embarrassed to the tips of her tapered fingers. She dared 
not look at the dark youth who was standing a few feet from her. Then she 
drew herself up to her full shapely, five feet, six inches and said, with 
feigned composure, "If you'll allow me to say so, Warden, you're being 
unfair to me. My concern here, as I'm sue yours is, is to correct the 
shocking situation that took place a few moments ago, in a manner that would 
be beneficial to the rehabilitation of these children. I fail to see that 
any benefit can accrue to any of the parties involved if Richie Perrera is 
made the scapegoat. The meditation room seems to me cruel and unusual 
punishment for this kind of crime." 

"Is that so, Miss Warner?" the warden boomed. "And would you kindly tell me 
what, if any, other brilliant ideas you have for impeding the administration 
of justice in this institution?" 

"Excuse me, sir," Lorie continued, "but I am just as concerned about the 
proper administration of justice as you are. But let the punishment fit the 
crime. I fail to see where the solitary incarceration of this boy would be 
in his interest, or would benefit these other two children." 

"It would be in the best interest in the whole goddamned facility with 
possibly one exception, Miss Warner!" Blanchard thundered, pounding his 
massive fist on the table. "In fact, it would be in the best interest of 
everyone in the state of Nevada if this spic punk were sent to the big 
house! He'll get there sooner or later anyhow!" 

"Then I shall be forced to write a letter of complaint to the authorities." 
Lorie stated firmly, trying to hide the quaver in her voice. She knew she 
was risking her job. 

"You'll WHAT?" Blanchard echoed. He was livid, but a rivulet of fear had 
begun to seep into his veins. 

"I will write a letter of protest to the state authorities, sir, to Justice 
Alvarez. And I shall tell him that I note a certain unmistakable prejudice 
towards this orphan boy of Puerto 

Rican descent, and for that matter, towards people of all races, colors, and 
minorities." 

She knew she had him now. Will Blanchard was a bigoted, right-wing fascist 
who was always using words like "nigger." 

"wop." 

"kyke." 

"greaser" and "mick." It was a dangerous indulgence, particularly in a civil 
institution. Justice Alvarez happened to be Puerto Rican, too. He wouldn't 
take kindly to racial and ethnic slurs in Nevada's "model" youth prison. 

Blanchard controlled his rage. He spoke through clenched teeth, the veins on 
his temples three-dimensional. "Aren't you over-stepping your bounds rather 
flagrantly, Miss Warner?" he ground out, piercing her to the quick with a 
murderous look. 

"Let me put it differently, Warden Blanchard," she said quietly, attempting 
a soft v smile. "I'm just as shocked as you are about what happened today. 
But I feel certain that there is a more constructive alternative to 
rehabilitation than the meditation room." 

"Thank you for the unwelcome opinion, Miss Warner." the old man said 
sarcastically. "That and twenty five cents will get you a Coke and a half. 
Now if you will just go back to painting your pretty pictures and leave the 
administration of Porterville to me, I would be ever so grateful!" 

Lorie stood there for a moment, burning with anger and embarrassment. 

"That's all now, Miss Warner. Do you need a motor-cycle escort to show you 
to your classroom?" 

"No sir, I..."Lorie stammered. 

"Then get the hell out of my office!" Blanchard shouted, pounding the beefy 
fist on the desk once more, sending the papers in the air like rectangular 
gymnasts flying from a trampoline. 

Lorie gave a curt nod to the big man, then abruptly turned on her heel and 
walked into the hall, bumping into several "students" as she breezed through 
the door. They dispersed like a flock of chickens when a fox enters the 
barnyard. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Lorie was waiting at one end of the hall when the proctor escorted the three 
young people out of the warden's office. She pretended to be diagramming a 
large, gray wall that was to have a mural painted on it within the next few 
weeks. When the group passed her, she turned to search the faces for clues. 
Thelma shot a quick, flippant look at her, but there was fear in her eyes. 
Brooks managed an embarrassed, innocent little smile. Richie's face was set 
grimly, but his eyes flashed little icicles of contempt that sent a shiver 
down her spine. The proctor's face was blank and dispassionate, as per 
usual. 

Later, at dinner, she managed to stop very briefly at the girls' table, 
where Thelma was sitting sullenly, toying with her food. Lorie was well 
aware of Richie's absence from the big dining room. 

"Thelma, please tell me what happened in the warden's office after I left." 
she questioned the voluptuous teen. 

"Oh, well, the old man gave me a month's worth of latrine duty the bastard!" 
she began, fighting back tears that had begun to well in the large, brown 
eyes. Brooks is confined to his quarters, under the proctor's watch for a 
week. Richie is in the box but just for tonight. Him and Brooks have to 
paint the cafeteria the whole damn thing! No canteen privileges, no TV, no 
nothin' for a week...the bastard! Lorie was shocked. "Why, Thelma, that's 
terrible! That's awful!" she blurted, holding her hand to her mouth in a 
gesture that expressed both surprise and horror. 

"Yeah, well, that's how the cookie crumbles, ya know." Thelma shrugged. "I 
gotta go now. Miss Warner." she said hurriedly, and she got up quickly and 
bolted out of the cafeteria, sobbing as she ran. 

Lorie stood there watching her for a moment. She was stunned. He is a 
bastard! she was thinking. Putting Richie in the meditation room, like that. 
How clever of the old man to keep him there for just one night she couldn't 
very well write a very detrimental report to Alvarez for that. As for the 
painting, that sort of punishment was a standard kind of correctional 
procedure at Porterville; only the dose was, as a rule, considerably 
smaller. " Standard, too, was the withholding of rec room and canteen 
privileges that in itself was considered to be a pretty rough go on the 
kids. During her six months at the ranch, Lorie had taken a special interest 
in the Puerto Rican boy. Richie Perrera was certainly the kind of kid one 
would notice. It was more than his extreme good looks, or his athletic body. 
He had a charm, a charisma that was apparent to everyone even to Blanchard. 
She always felt that the gruff, older man was jealous of the handsome youth, 
that he envied the many gifts and abilities the boy possessed that he 
resented bitterly the boy's countless successful maneuvers to outwit the old 
man and everyone else in authority at Porterville. Richie had an animal 
cunning, an impelling survival instinct, an excellent mind, though he tried 
to hide his intelligence at times, particularly when it came to school work. 
He had contrived to flunk several subjects that would have been a 'piece of 
cake' for him to pass it was another way of giving the authorities the 
finger; another way of frustrating the efforts of supposedly 
well-intentioned adults. 

Regardless of the reasons, it was clear that Blanchard had it in for Richie. 
The two of them had a running game of psychological chess a game that each 
of them was determined to win. 

Sure, Richie was a troublemaker. He was rowdy and vulgar at times, surly to 
almost everyone outside his own peer group. With them, he was a different 
person. He would take all sorts of chances to help a friend. He had a fierce 
loyalty, particularly to kids younger than himself. His word was his honor, 
and he never went back on his word. She admired that it took guts, and 
Richie was the gutsiest boy at the ranch. She admired his intelligence too. 
She appreciated tremendously his artistic bent, the sensitive way he 
rendered striking water colors; the power behind his line drawings of the 
human body. There was a deep sensuality that showed in those drawings Richie 
was a...a sexy fifteen year old. 

But of course, that was ridiculous...he's only a boy! Lorie quickly 
dismissed the latter thoughts from her mind and went back to her cottage. 
She didn't sleep very well, that night. Thoughts of Blanchard, Richie and 
the other two children crisscrossed her mind. She kept seeing instant 
replays of the appalling sight she had witnessed that day: The brief eye 
contact with Richie as she unexpectedly walked right into him, and the 
momentary feel of his broad, muscular chest against her jutting breasts . . 
.the look of momentary interest, followed immediately by one of extreme 
exasperation, followed by the epithet, "Shit!"...the sight of Brooks 
Holliman's small white bottom sticking up in the air . . .of Thelma's widely 
spread legs, and arms flailing about wildly as she scrambled for cover...the 
birdlike shriek that came from the girl's throat...the quizzical expression 
on Brooks' face as he tumbled naked as a jaybird to the hard cement 
floor...then Blanchard's chilling inquiry spewing out of his mouth like 
gravel from a big machine: "What's going on here, Miss Warner!" 

By the time they got to the warden's office a virtual mob of students and 
proctors had assembled behind them, as though Blanchard were the Pied Piper. 
She couldn't help overhearing their snide remarks the obscene four-letter 
references to what Thelma and Brooks had attempted to do; that it was about 
time Brooks got laid...would Richie go to the box for this one?...one slice 
off a cut loaf is never missed . . .et cetera, et cetera. Someone even asked 
if it had been Richie and the art teacher imagine! That bothered her most of 
all . . .Sure, she had taken a special interest in Richie, because he was so 
talented...but she had never, ever made the slightest kind of overture to 
him in a physical way; never! It hadn't even crossed her mind-not 
consciously. As a matter-of-fact, she felt in some ways that Richie didn't 
like her any better than he did any of the other staff members, and she 
admitted with dismay to herself that she sensed resentment vibrating from 
him when she had spoken up in his behalf with the old man. Still, she had 
felt compelled to try to be an object of trusting concern and encouragement 
to him God knows that was more than he ever got from most of the dozens of 
foster parents who had had him in their care for brief periods over the 
years. 

Yes, she reluctantly admitted to being a lily-white liberal and why not? She 
was brought up by loving and concerned parents who were staunch, God-fearing 
people. It was her duty to help those less fortunate than herself, they 
taught her. She must always be "kind" to those of lesser means and 
advantages, particularly the pariahs of society. Lorie had taken their 
admonitions to heart, enrolling in a teacher's college, and then majoring in 
special problems of rehabilitation instruction. She wrote her master's 
thesis on "The Effects of Environmental Trauma on Learning in the 
Disadvantaged Minority Child." By that time, she had already decided that 
her teaching talents, her art ability and her social values could be focused 
best in correctional work. 

Armed with a couple of sheepskins and a set of lofty ideals, Lorie began her 
career at a private school for "difficult" children. It didn't purge her of 
the guilt, however, and after four years of misplaced do-gooding, she 
applied for a position at Porterville, the revolutionary reform school in 
the harsh Nevada mountain-and-cactus country. 

She was thirty years old now, though she looked a good five years younger. 
She was thirty a very attractive...spinster! The word caused her to shudder. 
Oh, there had been men...she was even engaged once, in college, but she 
couldn't take marriage seriously then. Later there had been dates with 
several other guys, but nobody she could get very interested in for very 
long. She had her career, her work, and that took precedence. There would be 
time, later, she rationalized. But she was in no position to meet a number 
of men at the school, and here, at Porterville, well there just didn't seem 
to be anyone who struck her imagine. Most of the proctors were married 
couples, and those men who weren't were the dreariest kinds of 
creeps...especially Will Blanchard. He had never married in his 59 years, 
probably didn't want to subject a wife and children to the threat of being 
made a widow with fatherless kids. At any rate, Blanchard was, she 
suspected, a dirty old man, a real letch under that gruff and correct 
facade. She had seen him eyeing little Thelma Matthews more than once. In 
fact, she caught him appraising her own body when she was bending over the 
water fountain to get a drink. 

No...there just weren't any men to interest her at Porterville. There was 
only this kid, Richie Perrera! Unconsciously she looked down at her long, 
graceful thighs. She crossed her legs quickly. Then she noted the swelling 
mounds of her breasts under the light blanket that covered a thin cotton 
gown. Self-consciously she pulled the covers up around her neck and snapped 
off the light. 

* * * 

Lorie was surprised to see Richie in the art room with the other students 
the following afternoon. Her heart beat faster when she saw the shock of 
thick, dark curls inclined over a large drawing pad. During the workshop, 
she quietly asked him if he would stay a moment after class, to help her 
move some of the large canvases in the supply and storage room. For an 
instant, the boy looked at her coldly, strangely. Then his lids lowered and 
his focus dropped to the inviting globes of flesh beneath her light sweater. 
The germ of a sly smile crossed his lips. 

"Sure." he shrugged insouciantly. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Lorie answered one of the student's questions about secondary color values 
as she made her way over to the big, metal sink to wash out some brushes. 
But she wasn't thinking about colors, or paint brushes. She was thinking 
about the good looking boy with the thick, black curls who was still drawing 
intently at one of the work tables. 

Yes, she thought, Richie was certainly an attractive kid. She did not doubt 
that the old man had been right in assuming that Richie was behind the 
shocking scenario that took place in the storage room yesterday. Easy as 
Thelma was, she probably wouldn't have risked being caught like that if 
there hadn't been something more enticing in it than the shy Holliman kid's 
pecker! Lorie knew that Thelma was a passionate devotee of drugs 
particularly anything that could be smoked. Richie probably had promised to 
supply her with some of his dope. Where he got the stuff, Lorie couldn't 
imagine, but she knew there was some around. 

For all her thirty years,""" she was terribly naive...gullible, in fact. 
There was an awful lot she simply didn't "see" maybe because she couldn't 
bear to. 

In spite of her own shock at stumbling upon the lurid farce., in spite of 
her embarrassment and righteous indignation, she had to giggle inwardly at 
the sight of the gawky youngster trying desperately to pull his jeans on in 
the humbling shadow of Warden Blanchard's stance above him. Even if she 
didn't approve of what the two kids were doing, she had to agree that it was 
a perfectly natural outgrowth of a young boy's need to experiment sexually. 
Goodness knows, she had never done anything of the kind as a sheltered 
teenager herself...in fact, she had always found it difficult to confront 
sexual situations, though she had, as an adult. But she could never come to 
terms with it emotionally. Perhaps that was the real reason why she had 
never dated seriously after that innocent engagement in college...perhaps 
that was the reason Richie Perrera bothered her so much... 

She was certain that he looked upon sex not merely as a natural, biological 
function, but as an animalistic ritual as well. She'd caught snatches of 
whispered remarks about his carryings on at Porterville and elsewhere; not 
just with Thelma, but with some of the older teenage girls. He was even 
supposed to have seduced one of the housemothers, a married woman! Both she 
and her husband were summarily dismissed from Porterville. 

She had also gathered that Richie not only looked on sex as dirty, but 
relished it because of that. Here was a challenge: to help this misguided 
boy see intercourse, and male-female relations in general as a wholesome 
exchange between two people, a source of affection and caring, rather than 
just a ceremony to achieve self-gratification her intervention and the 
verbal abuse she might have to suffer from him for a while would all be 
worth her efforts. Here was an opportunity to influence this unfortunate 
boy's perspective in a constructive way... 

"Ahhhhhh!" she gasped as a firm, young body grazed the mounds of her 
buttocks. She turned quickly. Richie's face was only inches from her own. 
"You want me to help you now?" he asked, a teasing smile fluttering about 
his sensuous lips. 

"Oh...well, yes, Richie. The two biggest canvases...you'll see them in the 
other room." she sputtered. The blood had rushed to her face, and there were 
little currents, strange electrical ones, running through her veins. "I'll 
be there in a minute." 

She wiped the brushes and placed them on paper towels to dry, wiping her 
hands on her loose, paint-stained smock as she made her way to the storage 
room. She didn't know what she would say, or how she would say it, but she 
had to talk to him, had to try to help him. Really, she needed some 
reassurance that he forgave her for intervening the way she did. Somehow, 
she desperately needed to reach him, though she kidded herself that her 
motivation was purely altruistic; was purely for his benefit, and not her 
own. 

"These the ones you mean, Miss Warner?" Richie asked indifferently. 

"Yes, those two, and the two opposite them. Let me help." replied the 
nervous woman. She reached up high for the top corner edge of the first 
canvas. It was reinforced with wood strips, and it was heavy. Richie slid 
his arm up along side hers, near her hand. It was an easy reach for him, he 
was fairly tall. She noticed the muscles rippling on his strong forearms as 
he reached up. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her bare neck. 
She tried very hard not to breathe faster. 

"Richie...I...please, Richie," she implored. 

"Please what, Miss Warner. She could feel his eyes roving over her figure, 
penetrating the back of her head. But he didn't move away. 

"I wanted to thank you for trying to help me, Miss Warner." ' His tone was 
faintly derisive, she thought. But she couldn't be sure. Richie was also a 
very clever actor. 

"It's nothing...nothing, really. I just wanted to make you feel that...that 
there is some adult person who cares what happens to you...someone who 
doesn't want you to be hurt anymore than you already have been in life." 

"That's very noble, Miss Warner. It really is." Richie responded with 
impressive sincerity in his voice. "But you really shouldn't bother yourself 
about...a rotten punk like me. Blanchard's right I'm no damned good!" And he 
let his head fall abjectly to his chest. Barrymore couldn't have done it 
better. 

Lorie whirled around and grabbed him by his powerful shoulders. Her eyes 
were blazing with the light of a cause well embraced. 

"No! No, Richie! You must never, ever say that about yourself again...ever! 
That's not true! You have so many fine qualities your artistic talents, your 
keen mind, your courage...all those things and more. You're a wonderful 
person, Richie. You just have been kicked around a lot, and so you don't 
trust anyone who isn't your own age. But I have to make you understand that 
there are some trustworthy adults in the world...people who care very 
much...some adults who trust in you, too! And I happen to be one of them, 
though I may not have shown it as I should have." 

He studied her intently for a moment. Then he slowly spoke, "Do you really 
mean it, Miss Warner? Do you really trust me?" he blinked incredulously. 

"Of course I do, Richie," she reassured. "I've always taken special interest 
in you." 

"I've always taken a special interest in you too, Miss Warner." he said 
cryptically. 

A shudder racked her torso. "I didn't mean it like that! she stammered. 

"Like what, Miss Warner?" 

She couldn't bring herself to say what she obviously the object of his 
remark. "You know..."she managed, and then, "as I said, I care what happens 
to you. I want you to trust me. I want you to know there is someone older 
you can trust." 

"I never thought of it in those terms; like you being older than me. I just 
think of you as a woman, the same way I think of twelve-year old girls some 
of them as women." 

Lorie was stunned, but only for a moment. Then her body stiffened as the 
darkly handsome youth leaned toward her, planting his lips on her mouth in a 
calculated kiss, then snaking angrily into her mouth with his tongue, while 
his educated hands slid up under the smock and perused the lines of her 
body. Then he crushed her to his broad chest in a passionate embrace. 

She was acutely aware of a blunt knot of hard, throbbing flesh against her 
lower belly. She was trying to say something while his tongue burrowed 
greedily into her mouth; she was trying to beat him back with her fists, but 
she was locked in his viselike clutches. 

Finally he released her, as quickly as he had made his first advance. It all 
happened so fast, caught her so off-guard that she barely could believe what 
was happening. 

"Richie!" she scolded, glaring up at him with rage, shock and visible 
excitement. 

"Whatsa matter, Teach? Doesn't my interest, interest you?" he queried 
mockingly. She thought she had never seen a more sullen, contemptuous look 
in anybody's eyes. He was making fun of her. He was cheapening her, treading 
on her good intentions. She reacted spontaneously. 

Whap! The sound of her palm striking his warm cheek reverberated in her ears 
like the after echo of a pistol crack. She saw the crimson imprint of her 
hand on his light olive skin, and it both shocked and upset her. But 
Richie's face was an inscrutable mask. There was not the faintest twitch, 
the slightest grimace of any kind. Only his eyes showed emotion they were 
deep pools of bitter gall. Tears welled in the art teacher's eyes, blurring 
her vision of him as he quietly turned and walked out of the room. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

The big wall clock in the cafeteria said 4:00. Brooks stood on the 
scaffolding, looking at the endless light gray surface that lay, like the 
Great Wall of China, before him. He was a pint-sized Stan Loral, in his over 
large white paint shirt and pants. Next to him stood the big, galvanized 
bucket full of cream colored liquid. He held the four-inch brush in his 
small hand; he could already feel the cramping sensation in his fingers. He 
was just about to dip the brush into the bucket when a voice boomed over the 
intercom: 

"This is the warden speaking. Holliman, report in." 

"Here, sir." 

"Perrera, report in." Silence. "He'll be right here, sir . He had to go to 
the..." 

". . . Had to take a leak sir." Richie shouted into the intercom as he 
ascended the scaffolding. 

"Hop to it, Perrera, you smart-ass spic!" the old man thundered. 

"Man, have I got something to tell you!" Perrera whispered to his shy 
friend. "Shut your face up, Perrera! I'm gonna keep this intercom on for the 
next two hours. One word between you two little punks and I'll slap you into 
the box again, Perrera. Got that?" 

"Yes, sir," Richie replied sullenly, punching the "sir" with a verbal right 
hook. It was right out of 1984, he thought the intercom, with Big Brother at 
the controls, Geezus! 

"All right. Now get those paint brushes going, and do a good job I'd hate to 
see you have to do it over, boys!" 

The two youths exchanged a knowing glance that said, "Like hell you would, 
you dirty old bastard!" and dipped their brushes silently into the two 
buckets of paint. 

Brooks was struggling with his paint brush, laying the dripping liquid on 
the walls as best he could when he suddenly looked up to see his friend 
writing something in the fresh paint with the tip of his index finger. 
Brooks nearly fell off the scaffolding. Neatly written, in fingerprinted 
News Gothic Condensed, were the words: "I'm going to screw Miss Warner. " 

Lorie Warner glanced nervously at the clock on the wall. She made a few idle 
strokes on a sheet of sketching paper, then hastily crumpled it up and threw 
it in the wastebasket. She buried her face in her arms. 

She couldn't remember feeling so terrible. She could just kill herself for 
her disgusting performance in the supply room. Not that she had any 
illusions about what Richie Perrera had in mind when he kissed her that 
way--it was most flagrant and, obvious sort of advance. She had no doubt 
that if she had allowed him, Richie would have pushed it all the way to its 
most obvious and perverted conclusion--he would have made love to her if she 
had let him. 

So much for Richie. But what about her own hysterical response? She was a 
mature woman. She knew the facts of life, even if she had never been able to 
comfortably handle her sexual relationships with men, or rather, her 
responses to them. But Richie was just a boy--albeit a boy with a man's 
body--she should have been able to handle his advances. Why had she 
comported herself so stupidly with him? Why had she allowed him to touch her 
at all? She could have engendered the youth's respect for her with a simple 
but straight forward "No." Instead, she had reacted like a silly schoolgirl 
out on a first date, right down to the face slap! Her childish behavior 
could only alienate Richie further...it would confirm his mistrust of 
adults. 

"Damn!" she muttered to the sketch pad beneath her lips. Any communication 
she might try to establish with Richie now would be all the more suspicions 
in his eyes; it would be all the more strained. How could she bear to face 
him again? But she had no choice except to face him. He would be coming to 
the workshop again tomorrow afternoon. She would encounter him in the 
cafeteria at meal times. She would see him on the grounds. He had nowhere 
else to go, and neither did she. They were both prisoners at Porterville; he 
by directive, she by choice. Difficult as it would be, she had to try to set 
things right once and for all. If she didn't, she would never forgive 
herself--and neither would Richie forgive her. 

That's why she had ever so casually arranged to pass him in the cafeteria 
line at dinner, whispering her terse request as she reached for a salad: 
"Please come to the art room when you finish dinner." He hadn't even given 
her the slightest nod of acknowledgement. Perhaps he wouldn't show at all. 
Moments later, her question was answered by the soft sound of a doorknob 
being gently turned. She stiffened like a frightened animal. Then, the 
handsome Puerto Rican youth tiptoed into the room. 

Lorie caught her breath, unable to keep from recalling the little threads of 
forbidden pleasure that unraveled in her body when he had kissed her and 
felt her breasts. Now, the sight of him arrogantly strolling towards her, 
hands in his back pockets, made her stomach flutter nervously. She thought 
he had grown three inches in a few hours. There were paint spots dappling 
his hands and bare arms. Flecks of the cream colored enamel highlighted his 
glossy, black hair. She hadn't the slightest idea what to say to him. 

"Did anyone see you come in?" she blurted out. (That didn't sound right at 
all!) 

"I don't think so, Miss Warner." he replied slowly, a faint smirk playing 
about his wide mouth. 

"I mean, I don't want you to get in trouble again...because of me. Maybe, 
maybe you should lock the door." 

"I did, Miss Warner." The smirk broadened. The way Richie looked at her made 
a chill run down her spine. Again, she realized, he had the wrong idea about 
why she had asked to see him. 

"Richie, I hope I can make you realize why I wanted to see you at this 
hour." she bungled again. 

"Sure. I think you've made me realize why you wanted to see me now, Miss 
Warner." he said, letting his eyes rest upon the obvious swell of her 
breasts, feasting greedily, in fact, upon the full molded protuberances. She 
swallowed hard. 

"Richie...please don't look at me that way." she begged. 

"Why not? You like it. You liked it when I kissed you. You liked it when I 
felt you up." he said matter-of-factly. 

"No!" Lorie objected, almost too quickly. She detected the lack of 
conviction as her own voice registered in her ears. She knew it was obvious 
to Richie, too. 

"Alright..." she admitted grudgingly, looking downward, "maybe...I did." 

As soon as she had said it, she knew it was a foolish admission on her part. 
It would only encourage him to press his advantage further. Her only hope 
was to summon every ounce of control and maturity she had. 

Quickly she got up from the desk and walked towards some long work tables on 
the other side of the room. Anything to get out from under his penetrating 
stare, his confident smirk, his compelling...sexuality! 

But he grabbed her in a trice, and hungrily clutched her trim body to his, 
hungrily massaged his lips against hers, hungrily searched her mouth for 
contact with his tongue. Her body went limp. She had to exert every ounce of 
self-control to keep her arms at her sides. 

Appearing unresponsive was the greatest challenge she faced at that moment. 
She closed her eyes, trying to force shut a door in her mind that would 
close off the rampant and incalculable need that fanned the long-banked 
generator, charged to the extremities with an electric titillation that she 
had not felt in such a long time--if ever. Lorie Warner knew that she was 
dangerously vulnerable with this hot-blooded youth near her. 

Suddenly Richie loosened his hold on the art teacher's curvaceous body and 
took a step backwards. His look pierced her like an arrow. She was trembling 
so much she could hardly speak. 

"Richie, please," she said quiveringly, "please believe me. I didn't call 
you here for this." 

A familiar cynical and arrogant smile etched itself slowly on the 
youngster's lips. "Believe you I don't, teach. You think I don't know why 
you stuck your nose into that business with the old man? You must think I'm 
just a big, dumb kid!" 

"Oh no!" she gasped. "I didn't speak up for you because I wanted something 
from you!" She was beginning to feel sick inside. "And as for your being a 
dumb kid, Why..." 

"Nobody ever does anything for anybody unless they want something in return. 
It wasn't out of the kindness of your "heart" but because of the need 
somewhere further down, Miss Warner!" 

"Richie! How dare you speak to me like that!" 

"Don't give me that preacher-in-the-pulpit shit, Miss Warner. Underneath 
that lily-white exterior, beneath all those "good intentions" is a woman who 
needs to get laid about as bad as anyone I ever saw. I've seen it in those 
big green, innocent looking eyes of yours every time you've looked at me. 
It's been pretty obvious for a long time!" 

"Oh no! No! You're wrong, Richie, you're wrong!" she sobbed into her hands. 
She felt like a little girl being reproached by her angry father. Could he 
be right? Had she really looked at him as a potential lover? It was too 
shameful to ponder. She had never been so put down, so 
humiliated--particularly by someone whom she cared about so genuinely; 
someone who was only half her age! 

His hands were warm, gentle, reassuring as he took her by the shoulders and 
drew her close to him. For a moment he just held her that way; it was his 
apology for having talked to her so brutally. Then he began to stroke the 
hair at the back of her neck very lightly, causing her to shudder 
noticeably. Then she felt his lips on the sensitive skin of her throat. Then 
he purposefully took her hands away from her face and tilted her chin 
upwards. The boy kissed her softly at first, then with greater intensity. 
She melted under his lips. She moaned as his hands moved to the turgid 
mounds of her ripe breasts and massaged them into tingling melons aching to 
be plucked and eaten. He forced a thigh against her moist groin and ground 
his swollen young cock into her pussy mound. She pulled back, attempting to 
resist his army of one, but he was there more urgently than before. She 
couldn't deny the thrilling surges of pleasure that coursed through her. Her 
need, her longings were evident now to her, as they apparently had been to 
him for quite some time. 

Deftly he eased the sweater up and unhooked the constricting brassiere, 
freeing her longing breasts from their harness and exposing them to his 
hungering gaze. Moaning in half-hearted protest, Lorie looked down in 
stunned disbelief at the humiliating sight of her naked and voluptuous 
breasts and the boy's tongue extended towards them. 

Somehow, someway, she had to get a grip on herself! It was all happening 
to--the lust she had so long repressed, her desire for this handsome 
teenager--it was too apparent now. His arrogant and pointed accusation had 
been keenly on target. 

Richie took her hand and led her towards the art supply room. She balked. 
"Come on, Miss Warner," he encouraged, "You know you want it. You want it as 
much as I do." 

The pretty older woman shook her head in a vain effort to negate his 
accusation. But quickly he bent his head again and licked hungrily at her 
turgid nipples, weakening her resolve. Now she knew for certain that she 
did, indeed, want him. She even conceded to herself that her desire must 
have been an unconscious factor in her support of him when they were in 
Blanchard's office. 

Richie was moving backwards, drawing her with him in a kind of slow dance. 
She let her hands move up his back, up his muscular neck to his soft, curly 
hair as she held his head against her bosom. She was forgetting who she was, 
and where she was, lost in the delirium of sexual excitement as she 
continued to let the mature youngster lap and suck the highly sensitized 
breasts. He continued to inch towards the supply room as she laved the 
trembling mounds and eagerly caressed the firm half-moons of her buttocks, 
hugging her loins against his rigidly erect cock and bumping her pubic shelf 
with forceful persuasiveness. 

A bastard offspring of sanity suddenly knocked at the door of her 
consciousness. With a mewling whimper of frustration, she pushed Richie 
away. 

The expression in her eyes was one of pleading supplication and apology 
thinly veiling desire. The expression in the brown eyes that blazed back at 
her was one of disgust, frustration and derision. 

"You're a prick tease, aren't you, Miss Warner?" the boy shot at her through 
tight lips. The words were 38-caliber bullets right through the heart. 
"You're just a prick tease, as well as a hypocrite!" 

This was too much. The word "hypocrite" was even harder to take than his 
reference to her sexual flirtatiousness. She had to prove to him that she 
was neither of those things. But how? She had made a royal mess of things, 
alright. Yes, by letting herself succumb to desire, she had really let him 
on, had encouraged his advances. She had to repair the damage, somehow. 

Her legs went weak from the obscenely shocking idea that suddenly popped 
into her head. It was to absurd, too perverted for words, yet by its very 
perverted nature, it assumed a strangely positive character. The idea also 
tapped a well-buried masochistic bent in Lorie that she hadn't acknowledged 
before. What better way to win his allegiance than to prove her good 
intentions by giving him the pleasure he wanted and denying herself the same 
excursion into the forbidden valleys of lustful satisfaction? 

"Yeah," he was repeating, "you're just a simpering prick tease--not a real 
woman, like 

I thought you were. You're not only as bad as the old man, you're worse. At 
least he doesn't try to hide his hate for me!" 

"Alright," she said softly with an air of resignation, "I'm going to do 
something for you. I'm going to do it to prove that at least part of what 
you said is false--I'm not a...a prick tease, as you say, and I have no 
intention of leading you on." Fingers of masochistic pleasure prodded at her 
loins as she visualized the "sacrifice" she was about to make. "Just promise 
me you'll never, ever tell anybody." 

"Tell them what?" he questioned suspiciously. 

Lorie hesitated, letting her gaze fall to the telltale bulge in Richie's 
pants. She could see that he was terribly excited, and she knew that, above 
all the other moral considerations, she had no right to leave him with 
aching frustration. Still, it took every ounce of courage she had to make 
her next statement. 

"Promise me you won't tell anyone." 

"I promise I won't tell anybody." 

"I'm...I'm going to suck you." 

Richie let a flicker of surprise cross his face, then he quickly became 
poised again. He said nothing, but inwardly he was thinking of the punch 
line of that old joke: "Gee, you really are a good sport!"...Miss Warner. 

He let her lead him into the supply room as though he were a reluctant 
little boy about to get a spanking. She motioned towards the pillows 

--the same pillows Thelma had used in her abortive attempt to make a man of 
Brooks Holliman. The thought of Richie's bare body on the same surface where 
the girl had lain filled her with a momentary twinge of jealousy. "Lie 
down." she ordered gently. 

Lorie was amazed at herself. She had never submitted willingly to oral sex 
in her life. Several times during her engagement her fianc had pushed her 
head into his loins during moments of frenzied passion. She submitted, but 
always with some reluctance and distaste. 

Now she found herself suddenly longing to perform the act she had previously 
abhorred. She wanted desperately to suck Richie's cock. Moreover, she wanted 
to rid his mind of every doubt about her...to free him from the suspicions 
he had about her intentions, her sincerity. The debasing act of sucking his 
cock was the most perfect way she could think of to do so. 

Almost delirious with her own rising want, Lorie watched through glassy eyes 
as Richie stretched out on his back, propped against the plump pillows. His 
look was eager, expectant, and still somewhat derisive. He was daring her to 
go through with the obscene thing she'd proposed to him. As she kneeled 
before him on the floor, Lorie was almost overwhelmed by the force of her 
own depraved desire. What had begun as an outlandish but pragmatic plan to 
convince the rebellious youth of her sincerity had grown into overriding 
lust--lust given impetus by the unspeakable and forbidden nature of 
satisfying the boy. He had been right 

--nobody does anything for anyone for nothing. She was giving him something 
of herself that was to be a meaningful sacrifice of her pride, true...but 
she could not deny that she would also derive considerable pleasure from the 
act of satisfying this handsome and defiant youth who lay submissively 
before her. 

Sighing softly, she put a trembling hand to the zipper of his pants, then 
reached inside his fly. 

Richie's hips jerked in sudden excitement as she closed her fingers around 
the throbbing shaft of his rock-hard young penis. It swelled considerably in 
her hand as she worked it free of the fly, allowing it to appear before her 
eyes in all it pulsating splendor. 

Lorie bent the throbbing cock slowly backward, tugging gently at the 
foreskin and drawing it teasingly up and down the engorged shaft. She 
continued the rhythms stroking for several moments, moaning softly as she 
stroked the young cock. Then, as Richie groaned and writhed beside her, 
Lorie slowly slackened her up and down motions, finally holding the 
lust-inflamed cock towards her mouth. She was licking her lips. 

In a momentary flash of reason, she realized that she was courting disaster, 
that there was no reason whatsoever to believe that once she had sucked the 
teenager's cock, he would honor his promise to keep it a secret. But she 
also realized that if she questioned his trustworthiness now, she would 
forever alienate him form her, and might do him irreparable emotional and 
psychological damage as well. Besides, she had made a promise too. If she 
reneged on her word she couldn't expect him to believe anything else she 
ever said. 

It was too late now to back out! As mad, as perverted as it might be, she 
had to suck him off, regardless of the consequences to her. 

Richie's cock head shone with a tiny droplet of seminal fluid that had 
seeped from the minute slit at its tip. The art teacher and vocational 
rehabilitation counselor turned cock sucker flicked her pink tongue out 
enticingly and licked the droplet into her mouth. 

"Yes...that's it. Suck it, Miss Warner. Suck my cock!" the lad admonished 
her. His blunt plea excited her more. Gingerly she circled the head of his 
cock with her tongue, as the youngster's moans grew louder and his hips 
began to gyrate wildly in response to the arousing sensation. 

Again her tongue darted wetly into the tiny crevice of his glans, tasting 
the tangy fluid which was an aphrodisiac to her. Then her hand slipped 
softly to the base of the hotly pulsing shaft as she continued to lick 
teasingly at the purple head. 

With a sudden aggressive motion, he thrust his fingers into her blonde, wavy 
hair and pulled her head further onto his prick. The adult woman made a 
muffled cry of protest, but readily allowed the invader to graze the back of 
the throat. It almost choked her, but she derived a wanton and masochistic 
pleasure from the boy's sudden display of aggression. Purring softly around 
the throbbing shaft, she began to suck his hot member with creative 
determination. 

Richie's hips quivered against the pliant folds of the foam pillows as Miss 
Warner's warm, wet lips caressed the fleshy shaft. He groaned and shoved his 
hips upward, ramming his hard-on deeper into her mouth. 

Again and again the heated projectile plunged in and out of the teacher's 
mouth as the youth bucked excitedly. She met him half way, working her mouth 
up and down his poker-hot shaft in wanton response to his thrusting 
movements. 

Now Lorie was beginning to shed her burdensome inhibitions emboldened by a 
passion such as she had never known before, she sucked the boy's cock with 
savage abandon, making gurgling sounds and breathing excitedly to fan the 
flame in his sensate organ. She was sucking ravenously, a thirst for his 
bittersweet semen. She knew it was beginning to well-up in the taut, furry 
testicles. 

"Ahhhh! Yes...that's the way. Suck it like that." he was calling to her. He 
clenched her scalp with the tips of his fingers and drew her head even 
further down on his distended prick. His pleasure was heightened by the 
total subjugation of the older woman, the "Authority figure" who was 
slavishly stropping his young cock with her tongue. 

"Yemmmmmmm," Lorie gurgled, yielding masochistically to the rampaging 
desires in her own body and the youth's flagrant sensuality. Faster and 
faster she sucked on the delicious young hardness, her body swaying under 
the impact of uncontrolled desire and oral pleasure. 

Momentarily, she again realized the sheer madness of what she was doing. It 
was an open invitation to humiliation and disaster. It could even cost her, 
her job, if anyone ever found out. But at that instant, it didn't matter. 
All that mattered was the handsome boy she was so obviously gratifying, and 
the intense excitement and pleasure that were so foreign to her. She 
couldn't remember ever being this excited. Her whole body cried out with 
newly unleashed passion, and she longed for the cum that would soon spew 
forth into her eager mouth. 

She hadn't long to wait. Richie moaned again, and then his athletic body 
stiffened. He was about to come, and from the tightening grip of his fingers 
on her scalp, she knew he was determined to shoot off into her mouth. 

Yes! Yes! Fill my mouth, my sweet boy! I want to taste you! she communicated 
wordlessly to him by intensifying her lewd sucking and the eager swirling of 
her tongue around his vigorously roiling shaft. 

"Ahhuuunnnghh!" he groaned as the first spurt of hot seminal fluid issued 
from his delivering cock. 

Lorie gulped as she swallowed every bit of the life-giving fluid that 
spattered against the back of her throat. She groaned and cooed 
submissively, displaying a lustful fervor that witnessed conclusively her 
capitulation to her junior partner, compounding her masochistic degradation. 

Richie continued to groan and writhe for some time, gripping her head with 
his hands as he shot the last drops of his desire-heated young cum into the 
teacher's mouth. Then he released her from his imprisoning grasp and gave a 
little sign of expended sexual energy. 

Lorie licked every last drop from his shrinking shaft before she let it drop 
reluctantly from her lips. She looked at him, not knowing whether to smile 
or act contrite. Mainly, she was both embarrassed and highly excited. She 
wanted to avert his eyes. 

Richie gave her one of his irresistible smiles. "Wow, Teach! Just give me a 
minute to get it up again. Then I'LL FIND ANOTHER NEED AND FILL IT--as Henry 
Kaiser said. He has it painted on the sides of those pink cement mixers. 
Ever see'm?" 

Lorie turned away, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Then she 
looked back at him, her body quivering with unfulfilled longing. She shook 
her head. 

"You'd better go now." she said firmly. "They'll be looking for you. It's 
almost curfew time for you." 

"Huh? But..." 

"I did what I did to make a point. I'm not a prick tease--I think you know 
that now. 

And I'm not out to use you for my own selfish ends. I'm not going to let you 
satisfy me now, even though I might want to. This was all for you, believe 
me...Now please go quickly." 

She rose to her feet and took a few steps away from him, sliding the 
brassiere straps over her shoulders then awkwardly hooking it together in 
back of her. She didn't want him to see the tears that were welling in her 
eyes. She heard him zip his fly, unlock the door quietly, then pause, before 
walking out into the hall. She didn't see the triumphant grin on his face as 
he left the art supply room. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Lorie Warner placed the glass on the bedside table, slipped off the short, 
cotton nightie and climbed into bed for the third time. She reached for the 
glass and took a long swallow, shuddering as she drank. She had laced the 
milk with a full jigger of Scotch, her one concession to immorality. Not 
that she drank much, but she had found, over the years, that a drink from 
time to time did relax, particularly during those sleepless nights that 
plagued her so frequently. Tonight was no exception. She had fought the 
temptation to drink, but after three hours of tossing and turning, after one 
attempt at reading and a few boring games of solitaire, she finally 
succumbed to the soothing amber pacifier. 

She felt somewhat better as the liquid receded in the glass, and she lay 
back against the pillows, staring at the blank, green ceiling in her 
one-room cottage. 

The thin, white sheet lay, like a blanket of snow, over the rounded contours 
of her flesh. Inwardly, she still burned with the feverish desire that had 
been so obscenely unleashed just hours before, when she had committed that 
unspeakable act of perversion with Ritchie. 

The pretty blonde woman could remember nothing in her life as exciting as 
the boy's spirited orgasm, when he had filled her mouth with all that 
tangy-tasting, hot cum. He had used her lips and tongue ruthlessly to sate 
his eager young lust; he'd shot his entire load into her welcoming throat. 
What's more, she had swallowed it unhesitatingly, every last drop. She'd 
sucked the fire out of his rigidly throbbing penis, and left him limp and 
sated before her. In exchange, she'd gotten nothing but the masochistic 
pleasure of subservient submission. 

A slight, sardonic smile crossed her lips as she recalled her vow to deny 
herself while giving the youth his own unconditional satisfaction. It had 
seemed very noble at the time, but it struck her now with bitter irony. It 
hadn't occurred to her that, once his desire had been sated, her own 
punishment would be in its unimagined horror. Through the long hours of the 
evening, as she struggled to occupy her mind and her hands with constructive 
things, her lust had gnawed at her mercilessly. It was gnawing at her now, 
demanding attention, shouting for some kind of satisfaction, regardless of 
the means. 

Her eyes sketched the outline of her body under the thin sheet. The 
rose-tipped nipples showed through as faint, pink stains. Her girlish waist 
was a slender vase. The light-brown pussy hair, a darkly delineated wedge 
between her parted thighs. 

She yielded to the temptation to let her hand slide to the half-exposed 
swells of her breasts. Her fingers circled the pert nipples over the fabric 
of the sheet, causing them to tingle into rigidity. She sighed and squirmed, 
warming the mattress sheet with the friction of her naked buttocks. Without 
conscious thought, she let her hand venture under the top sheet and massage 
the bare, attentive breasts some more. Then she moved the hand downwards, 
over the warm, sensuous flesh of her belly and into the little crater of her 
navel. Her own touch prompted little tremors of forbidden delight to course 
through her, which encouraged her, then, to send a lone scout into the 
jungle of hair between her thighs. 

Suddenly she stiffened from the electric contact of her finger on the 
already distended little bud of her clitoris, and she realized with horror 
what she had been subconsciously contemplating though she couldn't bring 
herself to name it. 

Lorie sucked in her breath hoarsely, as an unwelcome spasm of longing 
emanated from the palpitating nipple nestled at the top of her pussy and 
ran, like a mouse in a maze, over her lust-wracked body. She continued to 
tweak and massage the little pussy nipple, teasing herself about the thing 
she wanted but didn't want to do. 

With another sigh, she closed her eyes and pushed her finger down the 
slippery little slide between the curl-fringed lips and into the tight, wet 
mouth of her cunt. 

Then her eyes flew open and she froze with shock as she mentally confronted 
herself with the obscene act she was about to commit. Fingerfucking herself! 
It was unimaginably perverted for a mature woman like herself. She hadn't 
done such a thing since she was in her teens! but what else was there? She 
had to have some kind of relief, or else she'd lose her mind. At least this 
self-manipulation, however depraved, might satisfy her forbidden hunger 
enough to keep her from succumbing to the next inevitable temptation she 
would have to face with Richie. 

Once again, she sighed as she parted the fringe of pubic hair. More heated 
sounds issued from her throat as her fingers spread the moisture up and down 
the tingling slit and began to dart in and out of her pulsating vaginal 
orifice. She arched upwards, kicking off the top sheet, so that she lay 
completely naked in her own sight. With her thumb, she began to massage the 
little mound of her clitoris, while she continued to worm her finger around 
up inside the warmly throbbing walls of her cunt with her middle finger 
until she could do nothing but surrender completely to her urgent need, 
writhing and undulating on the bed lewdly as she finger-fucked herself 
faster and faster. 

Her eyes were tightly closed, her teeth gritted from the strain as she began 
to thrash her body in wild contortions of uncontrolled passion. Grunts of 
salacious pleasure spewed from her lips as her fingers stroked in and out of 
the tightly trembling vaginal opening, her thumb working with maddening 
effort on the staunch little clitoris. Her face was shining with 
perspiration, taut with the tension of increasing sexual desire, flushed 
with the fever of lust. Deeper and deeper, faster and faster, went the worm 
of her finger into the forbidden recesses of her cunt. 

She tossed her head wildly back and forth, her neat blonde waves matting 
with the friction of her head thrashing against the mattress as she 
intensified her finger-fucking rhythm. Then she raised her head to look 
between the heaving swells of her breasts at the obscenely perverted sight 
of her own fingers hungrily attempting to satisfy her desire-filled pussy. 

Lorie could hardly believe her wanton response to the obscene manipulation 
of her own fingers in her loins. Her body squirmed and tossed in feverish 
contortions, and she couldn't deny the perverse thrill she felt at the 
sight. The very depravity of her act excited her, and she was determined to 
obtain her release from the devastating want that consumed her no matter 
what humiliating act she might have to commit upon her helplessly aroused 
body to obtain it. 

Her loins were thrust eagerly upward, meeting the probing middle finger as 
it fucked wetly, slickly up into her hotly flowering vaginal depths. The 
continued maddening caresses of her thumb over the violated nipple of her 
clitoris almost drove her insane with passion. Reality drifted into fantasy, 
and her finger became Richie Perrera's stiff young cock invading her cunt. 

Suddenly Lorie's whole body tensed. She shuddered, jerked and quivered to 
the staccato rhythm of her tireless finger, moaning deliriously and 
perspiring freely. In a sudden whiplash movement, her legs scissored tightly 
together, grasping the finger that fucked her passion-wracked pussy. A 
moment later, she felt the rising tide of an orgasm well deep in her loins. 

A spontaneous contortion jolted her voluptuous flesh as the release she had 
strained for was imminent. The salacious promise welled even more in her 
belly, and she moaned aloud in wanton delirium, drawing her finger 
completely out of her vagina and concentrating all her frenzied efforts on 
the throbbing hut of her clitoris. 

Then she shoved her finger savagely back into the small, wet cunt hole. Her 
breasts were atingle with pleasurable sensations; her naked buttocks smacked 
the mattress with desperate determination as she remained a moment longer in 
the purgatory of unfulfilled lust. 

Then...at last...it began: a deep trembling that erupted in the hot, 
volcanic crater of her cunt and surfaced to her loins, then flowed through 
every nerve in her fiercely quaking body. She heard herself crying, "Richie, 
Richie..." as she continued her frantic finger-fucking, wallowing in the 
depraved bliss of her self-induced orgasmic upheaval. 

A seeming eternity later, Lorie let her buttocks relax against the mattress. 
Her head dropped heavily to the pillow and she lay there, gasping for 
breath. Reluctantly she withdrew her wet, sticky finger from her vagina and 
reached down to draw the sheet up tightly around her body. She was still 
flushed with the warm aftershocks of her holocaustic orgasm and she couldn't 
resist the temptation to gently stroke the lust-swollen mounds of her 
breasts, smearing softly the warm, wet remains of her arousal juices over 
the hardened tips of her nipples. Her eyes closed, and for a few uncountable 
seconds, she drifted on a twilight tide of half-consciousness. 

Then she opened her eyes and stared around the dimly lighted room. Nothing 
had been solved, she despaired. True, her lust had been sated for a while, 
but in obtaining that perverted release, she had only brought her urgent 
desires into sharper focus. Painfully, she acknowledged that she wanted to 
be fucked by the handsome Puerto Rican youth whose penis she had sucked to 
fulfillment. She had to admit to herself now that he was right he had been 
right about her all along. She had desired him for a long while...perhaps 
from the first encounter, but she had repressed that desire into an 
unconscious corner of her mind. She had to admit, too, that, at this moment, 
her perverted lust was even greater than before. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Brushes and rollers at the ready, the two young painters were at their posts 
at 6:00 AM the next morning, ready to begin their tedious and punitive 
assignment once more. 

Richie was in high spirits, considering his loathing of the job, while 
Brooks yawned broadly, trying to fight off the sleepiness that still dulled 
him. 

"Holliman?" came Big Brother's voice over the intercom. 

"Yes, sir." was the listless reply. 

"Perrera?" 

"Right her, sir!" His response was so enthusiastic, Brooks was jolted to 
alertness. He must be high on something, the skinny lad was thinking. 

The old man was surprised, too. For a moment he was tempted to question the 
strapping youth, so he said: "All right, you little punks, get your asses in 
gear. I expect to see half that wall finished by breakfast time--and keep 
your yaps shut, too! Is that clear?" 

"Yes, sir." they answered in unison. Richie gave the intercom the third 
finger, and Brooks started to giggle. 

"What's so funny, Holliman?" thundered the intercom immediately. 

N-nothing, sir." Brooks stammered. 

With his lips, Richie formed the sentence: 

"Damn that bastard--I'll kick his ass good when I get out of here!" 

His painting partner seconded the intention with an affirmative nod of his 
head. 

Soon after the cream colored enamel shone on the wall, a nudge from his 
friend caused Brooks to look over at the neatly lettered printing on the wet 
wall. Brooks blanched, and his eyes became saucers filled with disbelief. 
The printing said: "MISS WARNER SUCKED MY COCK." 

The hands on the wall clock grew leaden, as Brooks waited in endless agony 
for the breakfast bell to free them from their burdensome task. He gulped 
down the orange juice, inhaled the milk, gobbled half the sawdust eggs, then 
tore out of the cafeteria and into the boy's John, where the good looking 
boy was leaning casually against a white, porcelain basin, smoking a 
cigarette. A cock-sure smile was tattooed on his lips. 

"So what happened?" the younger boy asked breathlessly. "Tell me--I just 
can't believe it! How did it happen?" 

"Like I told you--she sucked my cock!" Richie said, sotto voce. 

Brooks held his breath, waiting expectantly for an elaboration. "Well?..." 

"It was a cinch; easiest thing I've ever done." he boasted. "Remember how I 
told you that I made a pass at her yesterday after the workshop session?" 

"Yeah, yeah?" 

"Well, last night in the cafeteria line, she whispered to me to come and see 
her in the art room after dinner. I did. She said she wanted to make me 
understand that she trusted me, and she didn't mean for anything to happen. 
Well, I called her bluff--I just made another pass at her. Then she tried to 
act real passive, ya know, like she was resisting. But she was so hot she 
hardly knew where she was, man! That gave me a chance to think. When she 
tried to stop me, I was ready for her. I called her a prick tease. That 
really blew her mind. So like I was hopin', she must have figured she had to 
prove that it wasn't true...so she sucked my cock." 

"Geezus! Wow!" Brooks aspirated. 

"Naw--that's next." Richie said with perfect assurance. 

"When?" asked the attentive buddy. 

"Tonight, kid. Tonight. It'll take a little more effort, but I'll do it." 

"Wow!" Brooks repeated with admiration. 

"Know something else, kid? You're gonna fuck her, too." 

"Me?" 

"Yeah, you. You and a couple of other kids who really need a good piece to 
start you off right. I'll set it up somehow." 

Brooks frowned dubiously. "You really think you can pull it off?" 

"Has your old compadre ever let you down yet, kid?" the tall boy grinned. 

"Well, no, Richie. You haven't, but..." 

"So hang ten, Holliman. I know what I'm doing. That broad's hot to trot. 
She's begging for it, and I'm gonna let her have it in spades. I'll teach 
that self-righteous cunt not to treat me like some stupid charity 
case--nobody treats 

Richie Perrera like that without paying for it!" he said angrily, jabbing 
the butt of his thumb into his chest. 

Brooks searched the handsome face before he spoke. 

"I...I don't know." he said quietly, looking at his sneakers. 

"You don't know what!" he shot back defensively. 

"Miss Warner...I just don't know if it's right, forcing ourselves on her 
like that. I mean, she's really been nice, and all. What have you got 
against her?" 

Richie grabbed the shorter kid by the shirt collar. "Look, stupid, do you 
want to get laid or not?" he asked angrily. 

"Sure...yeah, I've got to get laid." 

"Then don't ask stupid questions!" 

* * * 

At the workshop that afternoon Richie worked intently over his sketch pad, 
making several anatomical drawings. When he saw Lorie go to her desk to get 
something out of the drawer, he quickly got up and headed toward her. In a 
voice audible to the other inmates he said: "Oh Miss Warner, would you 
please give me an opinion on these drawings?" 

Lorie barely looked up. Her face was flushed with embarrassment and she 
didn't want Richie or any of the others to see the beet-red giveaway. 
"Certainly." she replied crisply. But when the sketch pad was held under her 
face, she was forced to stifle a gasp. There before her, perfectly drawn to 
the last detail, was a large picture of a male and female copulating! The 
two figures bore a startling resemblance to herself and Richie Pererra! Next 
to the drawing was a cleanly lettered note which read: MISS 

W--Could I talk to you about a special project I have in mind? I will come 
to the art room at 6:30. Please write "OK" if it's OK. Thank you. 

Lorie was beside herself. She was stunned and angered by the boldness of his 
approach. She was shocked by the lewd drawing. But she was even more 
horrified to note the excitement she felt in looking at the almost 
photographic rendition of herself and Richie obscenely cohabiting like that. 
He was standing too close, brushing her thigh with his knee and tremors of 
heated anticipation were beginning to course through her. Saying nothing, 
she quickly took a black charcoal pencil and began to draw over the lines, 
obliterating some of them and revising others, so that, when she finished 
her corrections, the drawing resembled nothing more than a mallard swimming 
in a pond. Then she flung the charcoal on the desk and looked up at him, her 
green eyes sparkling with anger and indignation. "There, Richie. I think 
that's a little better now." she said, controlling her voice as best she 
could. 

He simply gave her one of his irresistible smiles. "Is that 'OK' then, Miss 
Warner?" She hesitated. She knew that somehow she would have to break it off 
before she lost control of herself completely. She had to set him straight 
before he weakened her again. She could hardly do it in front of the other 
youngsters. On the other hand, if she agreed to see him after class hours 
again, it would seem like an open invitation to enact the drawing he had put 
before her eyes. If she said "No.", he would be left puzzled and would have 
an opportunity to reinforce his mistrust of adults. She sighed. 
Unfortunately there was nothing to do but see the boy and hope that she 
could maintain her control long enough to explain why she could never allow 
anything sexual to happen between them again. Finally she reached for the 
charcoal pencil and quickly scribbled two letters that brought an instant 
grin to the boy's handsome face. "Thank you, Miss Warner." he beamed, as he 
read the word "OK." 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

There was a flatbed truck parked outside the big, main building that 
squatted under the blistering desert sun. The truck had arrived that day 
with some shop machinery and kitchen equipment for the cafeteria. Half the 
stuff had been unloaded from the huge, wooden shipping crates, but the other 
crates still wore the heavy steel bands that testified to the merchandise 
inside. It happened that the truck was parked opposite the arts and crafts 
room, on the west side of the two-story building, putting the crates at 
eye-level with the open windows on that side of the building. A person 
standing on the truck bed could clearly observe the activities in the sunlit 
work room. Richie had already determined the perspective from his post at 
the long, linoleum covered table when he attended the art workshop that 
afternoon. 

Now he watched covertly from a rear door in the cafeteria as the three young 
figures scrambled, one by one, onto the idle truck and hid themselves in the 
empty crates. 

Richie chuckled with amusement as the fat kid struggled to get up over the 
high railing. Arnie Taggert really was a good kid, and funny as hell. 
(That's something the hard-nosed Puerto Rican wouldn't give most people he'd 
ever known.) Arnie's trouble, as far as girls were concerned, is that he 
used food to try and solve his emotional hungers and any other problems he 
had. Consequently he was a walking Tweedledee. People laughed at him, and so 
he attempted to swallow his hurt feelings with every mouthful of food. 
Secondly, he wasn't exactly a good-looking kid he was about an "8" on the 
ugly scale. 

Dwayne Berman, the other third of the trio, was not bad looking at all. He 
was just hopelessly dumb. He was only bright enough to realize that he 
wasn't very smart, and that kind of bothered him. His dumbness made him shy; 
at least he appeared shy because he never had much to say to anyone. 
Naturally, Dwayne rarely talked to girls. He'd never know what to say to get 
one to jump into the sack. But a good roll in the hay with Miss Warner ought 
to loosen his tongue. 

Yes, all three of those guys including Brooks, who'd come so close to 
getting laid the other day needed to get laid. Richie was glad for the 
opportunity to show these kids the ropes. 

Carefully surveying the area for lurking proctors and nosy fellow 
"students", Richie walked out of the cafeteria and along the dusty footpath 
until he reached a side entrance to the main building. Pausing to listen for 
footsteps, he stealthily walked a few feet more until he reached the closed 
door to the art room. 

He lifted his hand to knock, then changed his mind and softly opened the 
door, then turned the key in the lock behind him. 

Lorie heard a faint noise and looked up sharply to see the brash face of the 
handsome boy who was striding towards her. 

"Hello again, Miss Warner," Richie said with a grin. 

"Oh, Richie, I'm glad you're here," she began in a business-like tone. 

"So am I, Miss Warner," he grinned again. 

She ignored the innuendo. "Richie, please sit down. I have to explain 
something to you." 

"Yes ma'am?" he obliged, hopping up on one of the work tables. 

"What happened yesterday can't happen again." 

"Oh, I dig that, Miss Warner. I know you didn't get anything out of that 
that was chintzy of me. From now on I'm going to make damned sure you get 
something in return. After all, sex is a give and take thing." 

"That's not what I meant, Richie," she said, blushing at the 
misinterpretation. Her voice was unemotional but inwardly, her feeling was 
quite the reverse. It was going to take all the will power she could muster 
to keep her resolve with the maddeningly appealing youngster. 

"You know as well as I do that we can't go on like this. I mean...what 
happened yesterday was an accident. I somehow got carried away with myself, 
and I'm not going to let that happen again." 

There was deep hurt in his eyes, and bitterness which he apparently could 
not conceal. Her heart went out to him. She wanted to clasp him in her arms 
and stroke his hair and whisper, "There...there, now. Everything's going to 
be all right." The kid looked up at her forlornly, his face filled with 
sensitivity. For one moment he seemed to have dropped the mask he presented 
to the world. For one moment he allowed her to see the real Richie Perrera a 
misguided but compassionate teenager! 

"I...did like it," Lorie gasped. "But...I guess I liked it too much, and 
that's why we can't do that again, or anything else like that. Now if you'll 
excuse me, I have to get some things out of the store room." Quickly she 
turned on her heel and almost sprinted to the adjacent room, tears pooling 
in her green eyes. Dammit! she was thinking, why does that boy get to me so 
much! She cried silently to herself as she fumbled with sketch pads, paints 
and brushes, hoping fervently that he would not be there when she walked 
back into the room. 

Richie grinned diabolically as he walked over to the open window that was at 
eye level with the empty crates on the truck. The sun was beginning to set, 
and he squinted as the blinding rays pierced his eyes. Because of the sun, 
he couldn't see the three figures who were secretly observing the room from 
their hiding places in the crates. But he knew they were there. What's more, 
he knew the art teacher couldn't see them either. Nor could he be observed 
from the path under the high windows. She would know that too. 

Quickly he unbuttoned his shirt, unzipped his Levi's, unlaced his sneakers 
and stripped to the buff. He could only laugh at what the three green kids 
in the crates were thinking. In time they'd learn that there was more than 
one way to get a piece of ass! Then the determined youth looked down at his 
burgeoning cock. It was hard, but not fully erect, so he grabbed the warm 
shaft and stroked it back and forth in his hand a few times until it 
blossomed into obscene flower just as Lorie Warner appeared from behind the 
supply room wall. 

She almost fainted at the shocking sight, dropping a handful of brushes as 
she stepped back into the workroom. She never would have expected this! 
Richie had looked so hurt, so utterly wounded when she had stalked out of 
the room. She honestly thought he had left quietly, that she would be alone. 
Instead, he was standing near the window, his body spotlighted by the sun, 
totally naked, a lewd, mocking grin on his face. Worse, his hand was 
obscenely stroking the stunningly displayed, blood-engorged penis! 

She stared at him, spellbound, despite herself. She'd never seen him without 
his clothes on. Even yesterday, when she had submissively sucked him off and 
let him come in her mouth, he had been fully clothed except for his naked 
cock. Now he was displaying one of the most beautiful, most muscular, most 
flawless young bodies she had ever seen in her life. For a moment she was 
paralyzed. Then she was mobilized by the sight of him walking towards her 
slowly. 

"No, Richie...please!" she pleaded, as she tried to run for the door. 

"But, Miss Warner," Richie intoned with astonishing sincerity, "I want to 
make love to you. I want to fuck you." 

She was on the other side of one of the long tables. For a moment she could 
find no words of protest. Looking at his body was irresistible for her, and 
her eyes roamed the naked torso. She would love to sculpt him one day. Again 
she flashed on the masochistic ecstasy she experienced yesterday when she 
had taken his cock into her mouth. She wanted him so badly she could hardly 
stand it. She thought she would die if she had to deny herself, but she 
mustn't yield to him she couldn't! She just couldn't! 

"No, Richie," she said in a strained whisper. "We can't. That's all there is 
to it. We just can't." 

Richie watched her silently. He knew it was now or never. He couldn't lose 
face with his three junior protge's. He had to make his move. 

With amazing agility, Richie vaulted up onto the table and then jumped down 
to the floor, right next to where the startled teacher was standing. She 
gazed at him, dumbfounded, as he gently but firmly took the sketch pads from 
her arms and the jars of paint from her hand and placed them on a nearby 
stool. She began to tremble with fear and excitement as he extended one of 
his hands slowly toward her breast. She leaned against the high work table, 
a soft whimper of protest rising in her throat as the palm of his hand came 
in contact with one of her already swollen mounds, crushing the covered 
nipple with the heel of his hand. The nipple responded instantly to his 
touch by rising to a tingling rigidity. 

The older woman heaved a deep sigh, her knees almost going weak as Richie 
moved closer to her. Once more her eyes feasted on the looming cock that was 
close to brushing her loins. Suddenly he grabbed her and pressed his mouth 
eagerly to her sensuously parted lips. Before she could protest, his tongue 
burrowed deeply into her mouth. He was eagerly kneading and fondling the 
up-thrust, ripe breasts as he kissed her hotly, and the titillation was 
already beginning to weaken her resistance. 

Lorie closed her eyes, fighting with all her strength against the forbidden 
electric sensations coursing through her body. She squirmed and writhed in a 
half-hearted effort to wriggle away from the young boy, but the movement 
only served to put her body into closer and even more arousing contact with 
his. The shocking pressure of his thighs and the demanding erection of his 
naked cock pushing against her loins further stimulated her, making it 
increasingly difficult to resist his urgent advances. She couldn't help 
herself she wanted Ritchie so badly that she hardly could force herself to 
remember the dreadful consequences of surrender. Her body was crying out in 
wanton desperation; her will was buckling. 

Then she shuddered as Richie drew back just far enough to allow his hands 
access to the buttons on her cotton dress. His strong hands deftly flicked 
them, one by one, exposing the rising and falling cleavage of her milk-white 
breasts that were thrust up against each other by the restricting cups of 
her brassiere. The teenager kept his gaze fixed on hers, smiling with 
perfect confidence, as he continued to work open the buttons down the length 
of her excited body. 

Lorie waged the losing battle against her lust for a few more minutes, but 
she acknowledged that it had been hopeless from the beginning. Things had 
already gotten too far out of hand. Richie's bold gesture of stripping 
himself naked had been too much for her. She couldn't resist the beckoning 
sight of his smooth, muscular body and the prodding of his erect cock 
between her thighs. Dammit! Why did he have to be so clever, besides being 
the most sexually appealing...man she had ever known. Yes, he was only 
fifteen years old but he was unmistakably a man! Now, with the smooth, rigid 
penis brushing against the thin panties, she was helpless to resist. At last 
she heaved a deep sigh of resignation and nodded her head, pushing Richie 
gently away from her. 

"All right," she conceded. "You win. But this is the last time," she warned. 
"Don't ever come back here again." 

Through lust-lidded eyes came the triumphant smile as Richie lifted the 
dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. The teacher was clad 
in only her brassiere and sheer panties now, her back to the open window 
where the three youngsters were all eyes. Richie gave a quick look over her 
shoulder as he reached behind her back and made an "okay" sign with his hand 
before deftly unhooking the white fabric band. Richie stroked the straps 
away from her shoulders, causing her flesh to rise in tiny bumps of 
pleasure. She could feel the last, hot rays of the setting sun against her 
heated flesh. Her ripely rounded breasts stood at attention, without the 
need of artificial support. Indeed, she wore a bra only for the sake of 
decorum. She didn't want to appear seductive to any of her young wards at 
Porterville, much less to the warden! She was a little bit afraid of the 
older man. 

Lorie couldn't help but notice the look of eager appreciation in Richie's 
eyes. His eyes widened as she hooked her thumbs around the narrow, elastic 
waistband of her panties, then slipped further down inside the flimsy 
material to brush the warm smootliness of her belly and the sepia strands of 
her pubic hair. He knew he had her now, and she would never again be able to 
say no to anything he or his friends demanded of her. 

The sensuous woman gazed down wantonly at her own near-naked body. 
Anticipation mounted in her as she surveyed the arching breasts, the pointed 
nipples, her naked belly and the softly curling pussy mound under the 
near-transparent panties that were barely covering her lower hips. She toyed 
a bit longer with the waistband, drawing it a half-inch lower on her 
inviting hips, looking at the naked boy through seductive eyes. 

A soft moan issued spontaneously from her lips as her eyes trailed slowly 
down his muscular young body and rested once more on his lustfully bobbing 
penis rising from the crisp, dark curls that furred his genitals. 

Lorie knew there was no stopping herself now. She had gone too far. She 
would have him now, regardless of what happened later. She was going to be 
fucked as she had never been fucked in her life. There would be ample time 
to consider the consequences later! 

She took his hands in hers, guiding them to her hips, encouraging him to 
take the panties down. His breath blew warmly over the pouting nipples of 
her aching breasts as he seized the tight waistband of her panties and 
inched them over the clefted cheeks of her buttocks and over her marble 
thighs, exposing the softly curling hair on her already hotly flaring pussy 
lips. 

Then she shivered with excitement as the good looking youth pressed his face 
into the deep valley of her breasts and his tongue hiked cross-country over 
the yielding hillocks and the sensitive peaks of her breast buds. He seized 
the warm cheeks of her buttocks and pulled her tightly against his own 
straining loins, pressing his impatient cock against the moistening 
protuberance of her cunt. She whimpered delightedly. 

Eagerly she enclosed him with her arms, her fingers etching wild patterns on 
the rippling muscles of his back. His broad, hairless chest incited the 
supple mounds of her breasts; his prodding shaft goaded her perspiring 
loins. 

A soft moan issued from her throat as Richie parted her ass cheeks with a 
sure finger and let the exploring digit descend to the tantalizing slit of 
her pussy. 

Lorie's whole body jerked spasmodically; maddening flutters of desire ran 
rampant through her as his finger teased the surface of her hungering little 
cunt hole. She eagerly lapped and kissed his smooth, olive forehead and the 
lids of his dark, smoldering eyes, his firm cheeks and his full, pouting 
lips. It was going to happen at last! she was thinking. Despite the utter 
insanity of it, she was going to get fucked by fifteen year old Richie 
Perrera, the "bad boy" of Porterville! And at that moment, nothing could 
thrill her more. 

"Turn around," he commanded gently. "I want to feel you against me like 
that." 

With a supplicating moan, Lorie obediently turned to face the sunset, 
pressing back against his warm loins with her quivering buttocks. His hot 
young cock pressed up between the tensed cheeks of her softly mounded 
ass-flesh, evoking moans of intense pleasure. With one purposeful hand 
around her body, he kneaded her luscious breasts; with the other, he stroked 
the slippery little crevice of her throbbing pussy...massaging the distended 
clitoris, then easing inside the squishy vagina with an experienced touch. 
She gasped and ground her ass into his loins with a fierce abandon and 
wanton need. 

"Oh yes...yes!" she rasped, shivering with heated anticipation and 
uncontrollable emotion. "Oh, Richie fuck me. Fuck me now!" 

Without further invitation, the youth easily hoisted her up to the table, in 
a sitting position. Quick as the blink of an eye, it seemed, he was beside 
her, lying on his back and motioning for her to get on top of him. She 
wondered why he hadn't chosen the soft, caressing pillows in the supply 
room. As though he could read her mind, he suddenly said, "I don't want you 
to be uncomfortable, Miss Warner. The table is kind of hard for you." 

"Shouldn't we go into the room?" she asked in a trembling voice. 

"It's a thousand miles away, my lady. I want your cunt sliding down over my 
cock too badly to make the journey!" 

That did it. She was putty in his hands. God! Where did he pick that up? she 
wondered. This kid could teach a course to the men of her generation! 

"Oh, I want you too, Richie," she crooned. "I want you so very much!" 

She positioned herself above the youth's powerful body, placing a knee on 
either side of his muscular thighs, allowing the blood-engorged head of his 
lusting cock to brush along the downy surface of her cunt. He seized the 
hard probe with one of his hands and guided it to the tingling little bud of 
her clitoris. 

"Ah!" she gasped, grinding her hips against the velvet knob. "Ah! Ahhhhh!" 

Richie hesitated for a second, holding the throbbing tip of his cock against 
the defenseless slit of her hungering cunt lips. Then, his own hips 
quivering, he gave an upward thrust of his bottom, pulling her down on the 
invading shaft with the other strong arm. 

Lorie stiffened, her body contorting from the pain, as the lips of her pussy 
yielded to the penetration of the fiery tip of his prick. She gasped as she 
allowed her buttocks to sink slowly downward, implanting the palpitating 
hardness into her soft, cuntal opening. Simultaneously, Richie thrust upward 
again, burrowing like an earthworm deeper into the dark, wet folds of her 
liquidly enveloping vaginal depths. With another short jerky motion from 
both of them, his conquering young cock was embedded to the hilt deep up 
inside the art teacher's hotly clasping cunt. 

They lay there motionless for one, long moment of delicious denial, 
relishing the sensations that enveloped them. Lorie, skewered like a stuck 
pig, was lost in ecstasy and breathless anticipation. Richie, the skewering 
stripling, was flushed with the fever of youthful desire and the fervor of 
youthful conquest. He knew his younger buddies were getting a ringside seat 
at Miss Warner's seduction; knew they were probably beating off as they took 
in the unfiltered view of her lush, naked ass waving high in the air with 
his cock buried deep in her cunt below. They could easily see the wanton way 
she embraced him, the obscenely passionate kisses she lavished on him. 

Unable to control her desire any longer, the older woman began to writhe 
against him. He answered her mating call with a sensuously compatible 
undulation. She was all gooseflesh as he began to grind her softly curving 
buttocks slowly up and down, easing his slippery cock in and out of her 
heated pussy in smooth, rhythmical manipulations. His hands massaged the 
sensitized mounds of her breasts, and his fingers tweaked the rosebud 
nipples as he continued to penetrate the velvet folds of her pussy. He was 
spearing her harder and harder now, and she responded with more frenzied up 
and down thrusts on his virile young cock. 

"Ohhh! Ohhhh, yes! It's so good...so wonderful, Richie!" she purred into his 
ear. She let her tongue dart into the little cave, sending incredible shocks 
of pleasure through him. She had lost all her inhibitions. She was tonguing 
his ear, whispering obscene, four-letter words into it, galloping on his 
fiery steed for all she was worth. Richie had to admit that Miss Warner was 
the best piece of ass he'd had in his four years of screwing. For a moment 
he almost forgot his grim resolve. But he quickly blotted any compassion for 
her from his mind. There was a lot more where this came from, and he was 
going to make damned sure he got it. He was going to make damned sure his 
callow compatriots got it, too! Richie championed the underdog. As for the 
rest they didn't need it. That's the way he looked at it. 

Richie grinned triumphantly at the strained face of the beautiful, naive 
woman above him. Her eyes were closed, her teeth were gritted between bared 
lips. Moans and whimpers of ecstasy escaped from her throat. She was leaning 
into his hands, begging him to continue the heated caresses of her breasts. 
She was like a woman possessed, tossing and writhing with savage abandon. 
Her body had come to life totally in a wanton spell of electric excitement 
that had origins deep in her pussy. She flowered into naked womanhood before 
him; before, she had been an attractive female who kept her sexuality hidden 
under a prim and official facade. Richie had never seen a woman so hot in 
his life, and his chest swelled with pride. 

"Oh fuck me, darling. Fuck me harder," Lorie pleaded into the young boy's 
ear. The profanity coming from her own lips only heightened her perverse 
enjoyment of the wanton ravishment he was inflicting on her willing body. 
"Yessss...fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" 

The reform school teacher continued to moan and mewl without restraint into 
the boy's ear, her hands roving hungrily over his firm, young body, bucking 
and tossing wildly on his marauding cock. She knew she was getting close 
now. The shivers of ecstasy were coursing through her lust-fired flesh with 
greater and greater intensity. Her body had already become as tense as a 
coiled spring with the obscene lust that even the depraved act of 
fingerfucking herself the other night hadn't been able to relieve. She was 
coming closer and closer to the blissful state of release she so badly 
wanted and needed. She knew she would not be denied. 

The last lustful strains of the overture were ringing in her ears. The 
orgasmic symphony was about to begin. She thrashed up and down on the 
youngster's eagerly fucking hardness, feeling his taut testicles smack hard 
up against the crevice of her ass; feeling the dark forest of his genital 
hair merging with the soft, light blonde thicket of her own pubic curls. 
Then suddenly her body thrashed even more wildly as he rammed his cock 
brutally up to the farthest reaches of her narrow, vaginal channel. The 
waves of ecstasy began to break against the beach of her body, swelling in 
her belly and crashing against her loins, so that the reverberations could 
be felt to the very soles of her feet and the follicles of her hair. 

"Oooooohhh!" she panted aloud. "I'm cumming, darling. I'm cummmmmiinnnnng!" 

Her climax consumed her, blanking her mind to all but the raw sensations 
that ran amok in her body. There was only the indescribable ecstasy that 
possessed her; that, and the throbbing young cock that filled her spasming 
pussy and sent her rocketing into outer space. That beautiful cock and the 
beautiful boy attached to it had brought about the delirium of ecstasy, as 
nothing else, as no other man and no other cock had done. At that moment she 
capitulated totally to her helpless infatuation with the boy. She knew then 
that she would do anything he asked of her, regardless of the act; 
regardless of the consequences. She was in love with Richie Perrera. 

With the woman's orgasm a fait d'accom-pli, Richie felt at liberty to 
release his long withheld climax. He couldn't hold back any longer, nor was 
there any need to now. He began to buck and thrash spastically beneath her 
with great, heavy gasps of passion coming from his lips as the hot, 
sperm-laden cum welled up in his balls and began its frenetic journey 
through the engorged tube of the deeply embedded cock. Instantly it was 
spewing out into the heated confines of her ravenously sucking pussy, 
filling the moist cave of her cunt with the creamy ooze she was hungering 
for, begging for. Again and again he pumped the sticky liquid into her 
hungering cunt as he continued to fuck up into her with the force of a 
jackhammer. Excited mewls of submission and gratitude flowed freely from her 
lips as she once more showered eager and lascivious kisses on his perspiring 
face. Through the ecstatic, orgasmic grimace on his face came an expression 
of triumph, a confident smirk of power at the sure knowledge that from the 
truck twenty feet away, his three friends were witnessing Miss Warner's 
every move...were hearing her grateful sobs. 

Tremors of pleasure continued to wrack her periodically as she hugged her 
boy-lover tightly. Then she propped herself up on her elbows, took his face 
in her hands and gazed at him longingly, her expression one of tenderness, 
deep affection...and love. 

"That was so good...so good, Richie," she said softly. She paused, searching 
his face for reassurance, for an affirmation. "See I do care for you," she 
said, almost desperately. "And I'm not what you called me yesterday. I know 
your home life, your unfortunate upbringing well, all that has caused you to 
resent grownups, to mistrust them. But I hope you know now that you can 
trust me. I hope you know now that I trust you. Do you, Richie? Do you...? " 

Lorie was taken aback by the dispassionate glint in his eyes. Then he melted 
her again with one of his winning smiles. "Do something for me, Miss 
Warner," he said softly. 

"What?" she asked with faint apprehension. 

"Get up and walk over to that window." 

"Why?" 

"Just do it, Miss Warner." 

Reluctantly, Lorie rose from the boy and edged to the floor. She had a 
strange, unpleasant tightness in the pit of her stomach as she drew nearer 
the open window. The sun had almost set on the horizon now, silhouetting the 
shipping crates on top of the truck. She stifled a shriek as she saw the 
three figures scattering in all directions. Her heart sank as she realized 
that not only had they seen everything, but Richie had known they were there 
all along. 

Tears of hurt and humiliation welled in her round, green eyes as she turned 
to question his betrayal. He was dressing hastily as she asked: "Richie, 
why? What is the meaning of this?" 

"It's very simple, Miss Warner. Those kids never had a piece of ass. They 
need a good, "trusting" adult like you to break them in." 

Richie got to the door, unlocked it, then turned halfway around. "Oh, by the 
way...we'll be at your cottage about ll:00 tonight." 

"But..." she protested. 

"See ya, Teach," he grinned as he closed the door behind him. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

Lorie drummed her fingers nervously on the lamp table next to the 
overstuffed chair she was sitting in and stared at the print curtains that 
were tightly drawn. She looked at her watch, then brushed the imaginary 
wrinkles out of her kelly green jersey dress. Green was her favorite color; 
it brought out her eyes. It wasn't by accident that she had chosen the 
clinging dress with the buttons down the front. If she was to be a 
sacrificial lamb, she wanted to at least draw admiring responses from the 
little butchers. 

Her hand trembled as she lifted the glass of amber liquid to her lips 
again,, the ice cubes clinked against the sides of the container. The scotch 
helped, but not enough. She wished she had a gallon of it. 

She looked at her watch again--10:56. 

How would Richie ever be able to sneak out of his cottage without being 
seen? How would the other boys get away from under the house proctor's nose. 
Knowing Richie, he could get away with anything. She'd already found that 
out this afternoon! How could he have made love to her so sincerely, knowing 
all the while that he was setting her up for the shocking and humiliating 
ritual that was soon to begin? Maybe the other boys would be unable to slip 
away, she thought hopefully. Perhaps it would only be Richie...she would 
have him all to herself, to reenact the thrilling drama that had so 
profoundly affected her. 

At that moment she realized how much she really did care about the boy who 
had betrayed her. Earlier, she had felt her whole world collapsing as she 
saw the young friends of his who had witnessed their entire act of 
love-making. She saw her carefully structured life about to crumble. Her 
job, her reputation, her self-respect--those should have been her prime 
considerations. Instead, she was overcome by the treasonous plot that her 
trusted young lover had engineered against her. She wanted so desperately 
for him to feel at least some of the emotion wedded to her passion for him. 

The lovely, blonde arts and crafts teacher knew now that her days at 
Porterville were numbered. She was resigned to that. The worst part about it 
would not be the shame she would feel when Warden Blanchard confronted her 
with the inevitable gossip, or the dismissal, or the lack of a job she 
really enjoyed tremendously. No, all those things would be terrible, but 
they would pass. She would find another job--not working for the state of 

Nevada, of course, but there would always be a job somewhere. But how could 
she bear to be without Richie Perrera?...the first man in her life whom she 
cared for deeply?--the first lover who had truly satisfied her as no other 
man ever had? 

It was too absurd--he was just a kid! she reminded herself. She was a thirty 
your old woman! He had matured physically, but emotionally he was still a 
child. How could she have expected a child--particularly a defiant, angry 
and rebellious child like Richie 

--to keep an affair with the ranch's art teacher a secret! It was too juicy 
a plum, too great a feather in his cap to withhold from the other boys. And 
that Arnie Taggert, he could never keep his mouth shut--unless it was filled 
with food! 

There was one faint possibility left: the hope that somehow she could reach 
Richie on an emotional level, could somehow win him over. It was a tough 
challenge, but she couldn't allow herself to think that it was futile. She 
was going to use the remainder of her time at Porterville in pursuit of that 
goal; the one that had gotten her into this lurid affair in the first place. 

She was swallowing the last of the amber liquid when there was a soft knock 
on the door. She almost choked. Quickly she got up from the chair and took 
the glass into the small kitchenette at the end of the room. She ran water 
inside the glass and swirled it around vigorously, then placed the glass in 
the empty dish drainer. She popped a breath mint into her mouth, smoothed 
her short, wavy hair and made her way to the door. She staggered dizzily 
from the effects of the hastily swallowed liquor. She hoped it wouldn't be 
apparent to her "GUESTS." 

She took a deep breath and opened the door. Richie was standing on the 
threshold, flanked by Brooks and Dwayne Berman, who had an idiotic 
expression on his face. Behind the three was Arnie Taggert, his grossly 
overweight body equaling the other three in breadth. 

"Hi!" Richie said flippantly, another triumphant grin on his face. His 
pajama top was visible under the light, cardigan sweater thrown over his 
shoulders. Brooks had a terry cloth robe on. The other boys were dressed in 
jeans and shirts. 

Richie looked appreciatively at the shapely body in the clinging, green 
jersey dress. "Aren't you going to ask us in, Miss Warner?" he teased. Then 
he pushed past her, grazing her breast with his arm as he ambled 
nonchalantly into the small room. The other boys followed like sheep. Lorie 
closed the door behind them and locked it. She stood with her back to them, 
trembling, before she turned to face her young seducers. 

Richie had assumed a commanding position in the big chair. "You've been 
drinking, haven't you? he accused. 

"Why, no...no I haven't, Richie." she lied. 

"Yes you have." he said firmly. "Why don't you share some with us? I haven't 
had any booze for a long time. And Dwayne is pretty shy, as you know. It 
might help to loosen him up." He gave her one of those grins. 

"Very well." she conceded with a sigh. "I guess I could use some more 
myself." 

"Why not? It goes good with the hash." 

"The hash?" Lorie said with widening eyes. 

"Don't act so innocent, Miss Warner. You know what kind of hash I'm talking 
about." Richie said reproachfully. 

"I won't have it!" Lorie said self-righteously. 

"Get the booze." 

"All right, Richie. I'll get the booze. But I won't have you smoking that 
dope in my cottage!" she said adamantly. 

Lorie went the few steps to the kitchenette and got the Dwar's White Label 
from the cupboard. She took five small paper cups from a plastic wrapper and 
closed the cupboard door. A strange scent greeted her nostrils. At first she 
thought it might be something in the kitchen, but she had very little food 
there. She sniffed around suspiciously, trying to pinpoint the source of the 
unfamiliar odor. Then she turned and went back into the bed-sitting area of 
the room. Richie was inhaling deeply on a hand-made cigarette, holding the 
smoke in his lungs and squinting his eyes before he passed the paper-covered 
weed to Brooks, who approached it the same way, grasping it between his 
thumb and middle finger, then inhaling deeply and holding his breath. 

"Richie, I warned you..." 

"You're not exactly in a position to warn anybody about anything now, Miss 
Warner." he said, emphasizing her title. "Just pipe down and pour." 

With trembling fingers, Lorie half-filled four of the five paper cups with 
the pungent scotch. She filled the fifth cup and drank it down with scarcely 
any awareness of what she was doing. Then she remembered to pass the little 
cups to the young visitors before filling her cup again and drinking that 
too. 

Lorie observed, through blurred vision, that the cigarette had been passed 
to Arnie Taggert. His cup-shaped, little hippopotamus ears wiggled as he 
drew deeply on the weed, the way the other two youths had done. When he 
finished inhaling, his close-set eyes reflected the effects of the drug. 

"Smoke up, Arnie." Richie commanded. And the fat kid took another long pull. 

"How did you get this stuff?" Lorie asked her defiant young lover. 

"It's easy, when you know the right people," he grinned. "Anything's easy 
when you know the right people." she gave an involuntary little shudder at 
his cutting insinuation. 

"Pass it to the Teach." Richie said next. Compliantly, Arnie held it up to 
her. 

She shook her head negatively, but mutely accepted the fat boy's offering. 
Daintily she lifted the skinny cigarette to her lips and took a long drag. 
The smoke was hot and harsh, and she choked and coughed violently, evoking 
childish giggles from the group. Then she handed it to the very dense Dwayne 
German, who sat there on the floor watching her with a dim-witted look of 
puzzlement on his face. 

"I don't feel a thing." she announced proudly. 

"You will in a minute." Richie told her. 

The cocky youth poured himself some scotch, took another deep inhalation on 
the cigarette then passed it back to Lorie. "Have another go." he directed 
her. 

The alcohol-dazed teacher obeyed his Svengali command as though she had no 
will of her own. She knew things were out of her hands now, anyway. In one 
sense, she was already doomed. Oddly enough, the inevitability of her 
sentence gave her a sudden feeling of freedom. Why not?, she thought 
giddily. What difference did it make now, Richie had already betrayed her. 
She had admitted him and his friends into her cottage for the express 
purpose of initiating the boys into the secret fraternity of promiscuous 
sex. She would inevitably be found out, would be dishonorably discharged 
from her position at Porterville. So what difference did it make if she let 
herself go tonight? If she were going to be used sexually by all four of 
these boys in the same evening she preferred to be half-drunk and drugged 
with a powerful narcotic. She would let herself descend to their level, and 
perhaps this would foster some kind of communication with the boy she cared 
for so desperately, the boy whose callous disregard for her feelings and her 
welfare slashed at her heart like a dull knife. 

Passively she took another long pull on the hashish cigarette. This time she 
managed not to cough. 

"I still don't feel anything from it." she said, handing it back to Richie. 

"You will, sweetheart...you will. Now take off your clothes." 

"What?" 

"You heard me--take off your clothes." 

Lorie was stunned at the hardhearted way in which he spoke to her. Did he 
have no feeling for her whatsoever? He was treating her as though she were a 
piece of beef on the hoof...as though she were a common whore. 

She looked pleadingly at the other boys for some show of empathy. But there 
was only slack-jawed anticipation on their stoned little faces. She suddenly 
saw poor Arnie Taggert as an enormous Humpty-Dumpty. She could barely 
prevent herself from a singsong of the nursery rhyme. She wondered if, like 
the egg in the verse, he would break into a thousand pieces when he had his 
first climax with a woman. She started to giggle. The whole episode was too 
ridiculous for words. It was a Dali painting, a scene from The Mad Woman of 
Chaillot. It was the Katz 'n' jammer Kids and pure Heteronymous Bosch! 

"All right, boys." she said, looking at Richie. "Just gimme another little 
drink and I'll do my thing!" 

Richie grinned enthusiastically, giving the high sign to Brooks, who poured 
the last of the scotch into her cup. She chugalugged the burning alcohol 
with barely a tremor, then she looked slowly from one boy to another. She 
could feel something now. Whether it was the booze or the hash, or both, she 
couldn't be sure. But she sure felt something. Otherwise she would never 
have been able to do what she did. 

Slowly Lorie reached up and began to undo the buttons of her tight-fitting 
dress. She let the fabric fall away from her body carelessly as she 
continued to look from one young face to the other. She ran her fingers 
along the exposed flesh of her shapely and erotically stimulated body. It 
was madness. Sheer madness. It was just too insane to be believed. But it 
was happening. 

"Who's first?" she asked, trying to sound very bold. 

"Brooks." Richie told her. 

"Oh course. I might have guessed." she said pointedly to Richie. When she 
shifted her gaze to the small, skinny boy, he seemed as nervous as she was. 
That was some consolation. 

"We don't mean any harm, Miss Warner. Honest." Brooks reassured her. 

"Of course you don't, Brooks." she cooed at him. "I know this isn't your 
idea--it was 

Richie's. Richie wants to do something nice for all of you, to show you what 
a good friend he is. 

Richie wants to help his little friends--at my expense; to show me how much 
he hates me." she jabbed sarcastically at the person who had hurt her so 
much. 

"Cool it, Teach." Richie warned her. She was getting to him a little bit, 
and he couldn't afford to let that happen. 

"And you're all going to watch, aren't you? she continued, ignoring the 
warning. "You're going to watch like nasty little boys spying on grownups 
doing grownup things...just the way you did this afternoon, when your 
generous mentor had you hide in the packing crates. Peek-a-boo...I see 
you-oo!" she giggled again. She was almost finished unbuttoning her dress. 
She really had expected no less than what was happening. 

"And then?" she looked at Richie for direction. 

"Then Dwayne and Arnie." he shot back at her. 

"Have we left anybody out?" she goaded. "Oh yes, I almost forgot. You're 
last, of course. My, you really are a gentleman, Perrera. I must speak to 
the old man on you're behalf again." 

"Thanks--but you've said enough already." he ground out at her. 

"Oh no I haven't, ducks." she retorted, undoing the last button and letting 
the dress slip to the floor. She was about to unhook her bra when she 
noticed that Brooks was still fully clothed. She put her hands on her hips 
and assumed a challenging stance. "Well, Brooks, do you intend to fuck me 
with your clothes on? That's not much fun." she teased. 

"N-no ma'am." he stuttered, nervously beginning to untie the belt on his 
robe. 

Then Lorie's eyes narrowed to mere slits as she deftly unhooked her 
brassiere and let it fall away from the voluptuous, spherical breasts. 
"Wow!" Arnie gasped. 

She was clad only in her panties how, and even in her drugged state, she 
felt more vulnerable than she had ever felt before. Yet, despite the 
embarrassment and humiliation she felt in front of the leering, eager 
youths, she was becoming aware of an even more poignant sensation--an 
approaching excitement in her loins and belly, a distant bugling that grew 
more discernable with each moment. It began to thunder within her like the 
galloping hoof beats of a hundred charging horses. The act of stripping 
naked in front of these innocent boys gave her a perverted pleasure that was 
completely beyond her control. The very forbidden idea of it excited her 
tremendously. She enjoyed exhibiting her lush, womanly body before the eyes 
of these young voyeurs. 

She was breathing harder now, as she hooked her thumbs under the elastic 
band of her panties and drew then slowly downward over her firm buttocks and 
over her belly, revealing the downy hair of her genital wedge and the 
enticing pink slit of her pussy nestled so tenderly between her thighs. 

The intoxicated woman lost her balance slightly as she stepped out of her 
panties, prompting a dim-witted guffaw from Dwayne Berman. His laugh 
embarrassed her in her contrived one-upsmanship ploy. But she regained her 
composure when she looked at little Brooks Holliman. 

"Why Brooks," she said maternally, "you don't even have a hard-on yet." 

"I'll get it up in just a minute, Miss Warner." he promised apologetically. 

"I'm sure you will, Brooks. I'll do everything I can to help you." She was 
amazed to hear herself saying anything so bold to the kid. 

"I'm the director of this play." Richie cut in suddenly. "You let me call 
the cues." 

Lorie's eyes shot angry sparks at him. She realized her vulnerability again 
when he ignored her look and roamed her naked body with his own eyes. "Or do 
you want to stop the show?" he asked unexpectedly. 

"What do you mean?" she gasped, Again he had caught her off-guard. 

"Do you want us to leave?" he asked quietly. 

"I...I..." She couldn't even say it. She looked at Brooks, who was regarding 
her with desperation. She looked at the other two boys, who were hanging by 
their nails, hoping for fulfillment. The she looked back at Richie. His face 
was an equation without an answer. Finally, she hung her head in silent 
surrender. Now his triumph was complete. Not only had she agreed to submit 
to his demands, she had refused his offer to withdraw them. And the other 
boys had witnessed her willingness to submit to the ordeal. The only flimsy 
justification she had was that she couldn't bear to let Brooks down, 
especially after he had come so near to losing his virginity a few days 
before. It was a hollow excuse, but it was the only one she had; it was the 
last vestige of self-deluding pride. 

Then Lorie turned to face the trembling virgin boy. The look of gratitude in 
his eyes was enough to make the orgy tolerable. She noted that his penis was 
more nearly erect now, and she beckoned him to her as she lay back on the 
bed. 

"All right, Brooks," she purred. "You may get on top of me and fuck it." 
Brooks moved toward the bed hesitantly, brushing the imaginary lock away 
from his forehead. He kneeled beside her on the mattress. Then looked at her 
anxiously. 

"I'm...not sure...what to do." he stammered. 

"Don't worry, Brooks. I'll show you. I'll show you everything." she 
encouraged in a soft, lusty voice. 

She took hold of his small, slender hand and placed it on her breast, 
rotating it in wide circles over the alabaster mound with the perky, pink 
nipple. This is the living end, she mused fleetingly. She was sinking to the 
depths of degradation, having sex with this pubescent boy while three more 
boys, drugged with dope and alcohol, watched every move. Moreover, she was 
in the same shameful state of intoxication herself, unable to offer the 
slightest objection. In fact, she was beginning to take the initiative in 
the wanton corruption of these minors. 

With a soft moan, the naked teacher pulled the shy boy on top of her. "Lie 
between my legs." she whispered. 

The youngster's whole body jerked as she reached down and grasped the 
tingling shaft of his fully erect cock with her fingers. She stroked the 
distended young member gently up and down its rigid length. At last she bent 
it towards the warmth and softness of her own moistening pussy, tugging it 
gently, urging the frightened youngster forward. 

Brooks needed no further encouragement. 

As embarrassed as he was at stripping before his friends, not to mention the 
art teacher, his excitement was beginning to override his apprehension. He'd 
come so close to getting laid before, and now he was close to it again. He 
just prayed that nothing would happen this time to prevent him from 
accomplishing his purpose. 

Then, to his complete astonishment, the gorgeous blonde woman kissed him 
right on the lips, pulling him down more heavily on her naked body as she 
did so. One of her hands still clutched the twitching cock, while the other 
one moved forcibly up and down his back. Miss Warner had begun to sensuously 
writhe her narcotized body beneath him, and he could feel the teasing 
friction of her nipples brushing against his chest as she sucked his tongue 
into her mouth, moaning softly and skimming the warm flesh of his little 
cock with her fingers...her beautifully sensitive fingers. 

Then she whispered into his mouth, "Feel my pussy. Feel my pussy, Brooks, 
and get me ready to be fucked." 

Shocked at what he'd heard, the boy moved his hand cautiously from his side 
and placed it between the teacher's thighs, feeling his own excitedly 
throbbing little cock as he placed a tentative finger in the warm, wet slit 
of her pussy. This action evoked more mewls of desire from the passionate 
teacher. 

"Yessss, Brooks." she hissed hotly into his ear. Feel my pussy. Rub your 
finger up and down in it." She momentarily forgot the presence of the other 
youths as she concentrated on the innocent boy who had mounted her. 

Lorie hugged the trembling boy even more tightly against her swollen breasts 
and her eager loins. She was becoming steadily more excited by the thrilling 
sensations his finger produced as it perused the sensitive slit of her 
pussy. The juices were flowing more freely between her thighs from the 
tantalizing contact. She groaned aloud, Arching her ass up from the mattress 
in an even more obvious invitation to be fucked, grasping the small, half 
rubber balls of his buttocks in her hands and pulling him down harder on 
her. 

Brook's rigid cock was now resting hard against Miss Warner's trembling 
cunt. He lurched as the teacher thrust a finger into his tight little anus, 
and the lunging motion sent his rigid young cock spearing into the hotly 
waiting mouth of her open cunt. She caressed his soft, almost hairless young 
balls with her fingers as she alternated between the anal thrust and the 
testicle massage. 

"I did it!" Brooks suddenly cried. 

Lorie had closed her eyes as the welcome penetration filled her with 
sensuous pleasure and her eagerly clasping vaginal sheath enveloped the 
excitedly pulsing young hardness. The boy's penile length was buried in the 
velvety dampness of her cunt, his semen stuffed testicle sac was resting in 
the nakedly spread crevice between her buttocks. 

Now she opened her eyes to look at the youngster. 

"What?" 

"I did it," Brooks exclaimed again. "I got my first piece!" The other boys 
laughed. She smiled at him tactfully, suppressing the laughter in her own 
throat. He looked at her sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Miss Warner. I hope I 
didn't say the .wrong thing." 

"That's all right, Brooks. That's quite all right." 

"I guess I didn't believe it would ever happen, that's all." 

"Well it hasn't really happened yet, Brooks." she said playfully. "You've 
got a little bit more to do." 

"Yeah--like fucking her, Brooks." said the rotund Arnie. 

Brooks grunted deeply and began to hump her in jerky, rhythmical movements. 
The teacher undulated her naked body sensuously beneath him, making a fluid 
motion with her hips, trying to control the youngster's movements by 
steering his buttocks with her hands. Gradually he caught on, and was soon 
falling in rhythm with her, moving nicely on her hotly writhing form. 

"Easy now." she coached. "Just take it nice and easy, Brooks. Let it happen 
very naturally." 

Brooks tried to comply, but he realized that fucking wasn't as easy as he 
thought it would be. He was scared to death that he was going to shoot off 
every time Miss Warner ground her hot little cunt mouth up against his 
balls; every time his cock slid back and forth in her tightly clenching 
pUssy. This had to be the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to 
him. Fucking was the best thing in the world! He was going to fuck every day 
of his life until he dropped dead from pleasure! But it sure wasn't easy 
now. It was almost as hard as dancing-maybe harder. He'd never felt so 
awkward. But he was determined to give his best effort, so he tried to 
divert his thoughts from the mounting sexual tension in his pecker to things 
from like painting that goddamned wall, and his alcoholic parents, and a 
broken arm he had when he was nine--things like that. He must be doing a bit 
better now...Miss Warner was moaning and whimpering beneath him, churning 
her pelvis wildly, wrapping her legs around his ass. She was running her 
hands eagerly over his back, hugging him to her, crushing her lush breasts 
against his chest. 

"Oh...oh, Brooks. You're doing so well!" she breathed. 

Brooks felt an inner pride welling in his chest at the encouraging words 
from an old and experienced woman like Miss Warner. He had been so worried 
that he wouldn't be able to please his sex partner when he finally got the 
chance. But he was pleasing her. He could tell she really like the way he 
was fucking her, and that only spurred him on to greater heights of 
screwing. He intensified his lewdly thrusting movements, driving his little 
body harder and harder into hers, shoving his hotly pulsating cock deeper 
and deeper into the tightness of her pussy. 

Lorie, in turn, was thrashing her body wildly beneath the inexperienced 
youngster, straining more and more desperately for the elusive climax she 
wanted so badly. 'She could tell he would cum very soon from the way he was 
shuddering violently and fucking into her cunt with all the force he could 
muster. 

She thought she would lose her mind if the young boy came before she reached 
her climax, leaving her on the frustrating threshold of orgiastic desire. 
The hash she'd smoked made her need more compelling, made her lust more 
wanton. She would do anything, anything, to make herself come. 

In a sudden gesture that took Brooks completely by surprise and shocked him 
beyond belief, the teacher raised her buttocks high in the air and, grabbing 
his hand tightly, forced one of his fingers up into the tiny, pursed little 
hole of her rectum. 

That did it. It was more than Brooks could stand. There was something so 
perverted, so dirty about what she had made him do that it triggered the 
pent-up orgasm he had gallantly tried to stave off. His body stiffened. 

Lorie's expression changed from one of dismay to one of delighted surprise, 
as she felt the first tremors of orgasmic release begin deep in her belly. 
Heedless of the pain, she screwed her buttocks down tightly onto the finger 
that violated her asshole, the burning sensation only giving impetus to the 
uncontrollable passion that held her in bondage. 

The wanton woman gasped and moaned in ecstasy, thrashing her head from side 
to side on the bed as the young boy's cock unloaded his spermy young cum 
deep up into her ravenously milking vaginal walls and she was simultaneously 
engulfed in the waves of her own devastating orgasmic ecstasy. She drifted 
in a sea of foamy bliss, devoid of thought, unaware of the avid spectators 
who all bore staunch, young cocks in witness to the fantastically arousing 
spectacle before them. 

Finally--after the boy's penis had spurted Jetstream after Jetstream of 
frothy cum into her still cumming pussy, after she moaned the last moan of 
sexual ecstasy, she relaxed the tightly contracted muscles of her buttocks 
and lay back heavily on the bed, the equally spent youngster resting like a 
vat of molten lead on top of her. 

"OK, Brooks. Time's up." she heard Richie say. "Get your little caboose out 
of the train yard. It's their turn now." 

A little gasp escaped from Brook's throat as he withdrew his spent penis and 
raised his head to look at her affectionately. "Thank you, Miss Warner." he 
said with heartfelt sincerity and gratitude. 

"Cut the touching love scenes, Brooks." Richie said derisively. 

Lorie shot a wounded look at him. She couldn't believe his heartless 
attitude, his total lack of concern for her or her feelings. With a sinking 
feeling in the pit of her stomach, she realized that for all her efforts at 
appeasement, for all the passion they had shared, she had still gotten no 
closer to any kind of "communication" with the dissident teenager. He chose 
to remain an alien in her world. He was punishing her for something she 
couldn't even comprehend. He was making her suffer for all the grownups who 
had hurt him since his early childhood. At least that was clear. Would he 
ever stop punishing her? 

"Arnie, Dwayne...get trucking." he said, averting his eyes from her. 

The teacher's green eyes widened. She looked desperately at Richie, then at 
the two boys who were approaching her, both of them naked and sporting 
erections. 

"But...Richie, I..." she attempted. 

"Don't worry, Teach--they're going to take their turn together. That'll make 
it twice as fast for you." 

Together?" she asked hoarsely. 

"That's right, Teach." Richie answered triumphantly. "One in your pussy and 
the other in your mouth. If you like, they can draw straws to see who goes 
where, although I don't think it matters much to anybody at this point." 

 CHAPTER TEN 

The passion-drugged school teacher was beyond disbelieving now. Nothing 
would surprise her at this point. What better way could the fiendish 
"director" of this sordid drama degrade her than to offer her up as a living 
sacrifice to these two young boys at once? He was exhibiting her as a 
mindless piece of property, forcing her into both intercourse and fellatio 
simultaneously. 

Oddly enough, it no longer mattered. The alcohol, the hashish and the 
shattering orgasm she'd just experienced had all conspired to rob her of the 
last vestiges of inhibition and concern. Lust engulfed her in a shroud of 
insatiable desire, and she was prepared to allow and even encourage whatever 
perverted scenes her demonic young Svengali might order for her. 

She was dimly aware of three voices echoing hollowly in her ears as the 
initiates argued with their guide about positions and procedures. 

Finally, the two Perrera-directed boys climbed on the bed beside her and 
assumed their starting positions at the gates of her mouth and cunt. She was 
log-rolled onto her belly by eager, inept hands. Her thighs were guided up 
under her, so that she was jackknifed on her knees and elbows, leaving her 
naked asscheeks thrust defenselessly up into the air for all to see. 

She opened her eyes to see what was what and who was where. The first 
picture before her was the slender cock attached to the dull-witted Dwayne 
Berman. She looked up at his face. The kid looked at her sheepishly, then 
gave her one of his Mortimer Snerd-like grins. By an easy process of 
elimination, she figured the Humpty-Dumptyish youth for the rear. Arnie 
Taggert had elected to fuck her from behind, in the humiliating doggy 
position. 

The blimpish boy sagged against her back. She gasped as she felt the 
helmeted head of his circumcised penis pressing between her trembling 
ass-cheeks to make shocking contact with her already cum-filled pussy. 

Then the voluptuous art teacher inhaled her breath sharply as the egg-shaped 
young teenager scooted forward on his pudgy knees. The disturbing sensation 
bought a sharp gasp from the woman's throat. She hadn't noticed the fat 
boy's cock before, but as she turned around to look, she saw that it was a 
blood-filled leviathan, already slippery and glistening with the lubricating 
secretions generated by sexual excitement. The Loch Ness monster squirmed 
against the wet walls of her sex cavern, eager for admittance. All that food 
hadn't lodged in his waistline and his puffy jowls some of it had obviously 
been distributed to his cock! How would she ever be able to accommodate such 
a piggishly huge penis? 

Yet, the sheer enormity of the heavily hardened young cock that prodded so 
pruriently against her quivering pussy lips evoked a regenerating wave of 
excitement to stir deep up in her belly, despite or perhaps, because of the 
thundering orgasm she had just experienced when the first boy fucked her. 

She wanted it. Large as it was, she wanted it fucking far up inside her 
hotly demanding pussy, and she eagerly screwed her buttocks back to the 
marauding magnum of flesh until the pulsating cock-head split the sticky 
lips of her pussy mouth and wormed its way snake-like up into the velvet 
folds of flesh. Deeper and deeper went the burrowing tool until it was two 
thirds of the way up inside the liquidly clinging walls of her cunt. 

She had momentarily forgotten the unintelligent boy whose contrasting cock 
was waiting for admittance into her mouth. She heard the nervous boy say, 
"Miss Warner...uh..." 

For a moment the drug-dulled woman was uncomprehending. It was another 
surreal vignette: the living nursery rhyme behind her, implanting in her a 
penis that, judging from the way it was stretching her tight little cunt, 
was of prize-winning proportions...and in sharp contrast, the Porterville 
boy whose penis was only slightly larger than his pathetically small 
Intelligence Quotient. It would have broken his heart to have her say it, 
but his little prick was hardly a mouthful bite-sized was the word. She 
could just be thankful they hadn't decided to reverse positions! She 
imagined herself as a spirit ascended from her lifeless body, reading the 
coroner's pithy report: Death by strangulation. Weapon: Caucasian male 
penis; circumference: four inches, length: ten inches. Victim's age: 30 
years. Suspect's age: 14 years. Instrument of death has been remanded into 
suspect's hands. Suspect has been remanded into custody of juvenile 
authorities. Case dismissed due to shrinking evidence. 

With a soft mew! of acquiescence, Lorie lifted up her head and smiled a 
signal for the boy to put his little protuberance in her mouth. He either 
did not understand the nod of her head, or else he was too bashful to do the 
thing he had been directed to do. So she reached up and took hold of the 
softly bobbing cock with one of her hands. The youngster tensed at the touch 
of her hand on his sensitive flesh. His face turned crimson. Then she made a 
purring sound in her throat, which became a groan as Arnie flexed his penis 
inside her. Managing a sultry smile despite the pain-pleasure sensation the 
fat boy's cock created in her, she took Dwayne's cocklet and guided it up 
between her tightly oval lips, swabbing it softly with her tongue. 

The boy let out an oafish grunt and his eyes grew huge. He was momentarily 
taken aback. Then, his body trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement, 
he placed his hands cautiously in the tousled waves of the teacher's short, 
blonde hair and held her face against him as he gave a short, forward thrust 
with his hips. 

Lorie made a muffled moan at the boy's sudden display of aggression as she 
felt the slender shaft of his rock-hard little cock plunge deeper into her 
mouth. Then Arnie groaned behind her, thrusting his own loins eagerly 
forward and ramming the enormously distended hardness of his own penis even 
deeper into his teacher's lewdly filled vagina. 

"Give her hell, you guys!" came Richie's voice through the hash and alcohol 
fog. 

After that, all became a jigsaw puzzle of a thousand unplaced pieces. She 
heard the two participants and the two observers' further exclamations of 
excitement and triumph. She felt the motions of the two boys fucking into 
her mouth from the front and into her obscenely ravished cunt from behind. 
She felt the lewdly shocking thrust of their cocks in merciless 
synchronization, plunging again and again into her two cock-filled orifices. 
She was buffeted helplessly between them, being pawed and pummeled like a 
rag doll, no longer able to distinguish which hands belonged to which 
youngster. Everything melded together into a surreal montage of lust and 
humiliation and wanton, masochistic bliss. 

Behind her Arnie grunted and groaned his obscene excitement at fucking his 
teacher in the dog-fashion position. He could look down between her two 
circumflexed ass-cheeks and vividly detail each entry of his blood-engorged 
cock into her little hair-lined cunt. He also had an unrestricted view of 
the hairless, puckered hole of her anus, and he thought he had never seen 
such an excitingly forbidden sight in his life. It gave him a raw sense of 
power to have her in this position before him. He had never in his life 
dreamed that fucking a woman could be so much fun. 

Dwayne was no less excited by his own experience. His reaction when Richie 
told him earlier that he was going to get a shot at the art teacher was one 
of confusion and fear. Sure, he had thought about sex before, but it seemed 
something remote in his mind. Girls, sex...what was it all about anyway? Sex 
was the great unknown, something people did to have children, though he 
wasn't sure how. Now here he was without his clothes on, being sucked by an 
older woman!...by a woman who was probably old enough to be his mother, 
although his mother was ancient. She had gray hair and wrinkles, and walked 
with a limp. In fact, Dwayne's married brother was probably about Miss 
Warner's age. He was pretty old, too. 

But he got a feeling of excitement and confidence that he never had dreamed 
was possible when Miss Warner had taken his cock into her mouth! He was 
amazed and excited almost beyond belief at the sight of her groveling below 
him, sucking him without restraint. 

Richie squirmed in the big chair, his erect cock bulging from his Levi's. He 
felt like he could cum just sitting there watching the whole lewd display. 
He had engineered it all, he was the boss; he was calling the shots. He got 
a perverse satisfaction from watching his "mistress" being fucked piss-less 
by his two buddies. That'll teach her trying to meddle in his life...having 
the gall to pity him because he was a minority kid with a lousy upbringing. 
What the hell did she know about life anyway? She was some weak-kneed little 
wasp who went through life wearing a robe and halo, bestowing her goddamned 
charity on "unfortunates" like himself. He was going to expose her for what 
she was: a self-deluding hypocrite and...a whore! Why didn't she have the 
strength to stop him? Why was she letting him use her so callously? Why was 
she so hungry for affection that she'd consent to anything he asked of her, 
no matter how much it cost? 

A bony finger of guilt poked at his conscience. He couldn't allow it to 
pierce his well-constructed defenses. Quickly he reshaped the finger of 
guilt into a thumb of contempt. He had to despise her in order to preserve 
his faltering self-respect. He had to block any sentiment that would weaken 
his resolve... 

Yeah. Miss Warner...Lorie...was just a juicy cunt and a cock-sucking mouth. 
Screwing her, and turning his friends onto her for a gang-fuck, had been one 
of his greatest triumphs over "them". 

Brooks had dressed and was watching the lewd gang-fuck with curious 
interest. But he was satisfied now, and he knew he wouldn't get another 
piece for the rest of the night. In fact, he thought, he had better be 
getting back to his own cottage pretty damned fast, before the proctor woke 
up and found him missing. One thing was certain, though: he was going to 
want it again tomorrow, and the first chance he had, he was going to be 
working on Miss Warner, trying to convince her to let him fuck her again. 
After tonight, it shouldn't be that difficult. 

For a few minutes longer, Lorie squirmed and writhed and sucked as she was 
fucked wildly from both ends by the two boys. But the depraved abuse of her 
body between them had completely destroyed her resistance, and now the 
desire that had regenerated itself in her loins was even more urgently 
demanding release. She had never felt so soiled and degraded in her life. 
But, by the same token, she didn't think she had ever done anything so 
exciting in her life as to submit to the obscene group orgy Richie had 
chosen to inflict upon her. 

She could feel the electric current flowing between her lust-tortured thighs 
and she knew it wouldn't be long before she got the satisfaction she so 
desperately needed once again. She sucked ravenously on little Dwayne's 
thumb of a cock, hungering for the fresh-tasting sperm she knew was going to 
come spilling forth any moment from his hotly throbbing penis. She drove her 
buttocks furiously back against the beefy loins of the lurching and lunging 
fat boy behind her, taking the massive hardness of his over-stuffed penis 
deeper and deeper into the tender moistness of her cunt, relishing the raw 
penetration and the stinging slaps of his loins against her nakedly upraised 
ass-cheeks. She was being used obscenely by the two boys at once, and she 
was loving it. 

Then suddenly an even more lascivious tremor coursed through Lorie's 
trembling body as she felt Arnie stiffen behind her, his cock flexing even 
more rigidly up into her open vagina. 

"Oh!" he grunted. "I think I'm going to cum." 

"I'm gonna cum, too!" chimed the oafish Dwayne. He seized Lorie's ears in 
his hands and held her against his slender loins, his tiny, fleshy worm 
thrusting avidly in and out of her mouth. Lorie wanted to cry out her own 
need, but she was as helpless as if she had been bound and gagged. She could 
get no intelligible words around the penis which sawed relentlessly against 
her lips and tongue. There was no way to communicate her own longing to the 
two boys who were obscenely fucking her between them except to suck more 
savagely at Dwayne's cock in front, and to screw her ass even harder back 
against the fat boy's heavily torpedoing cock from behind. 

Then it began. Arnie fucked into her mercilessly with a powerful thrust that 
sent her face farther into Dwayne's loins. At the same instant, the first 
drops of the young boy's hotly erupting cum came spurting out from his small 
cock and into her eager mouth. Lorie sucked lustfully on the flailing penile 
shaft as the boy groaned soul fully and ground his loins spastically against 
her face. The fat boy groaned behind her at the same time as he began to 
shoot his hot load of semen into her feverishly absorbing belly. He put all 
his considerable weight behind the series of violent lunges against her as 
he pumped gush after gush of the obscenely spewing cum far up into the naked 
depths of the art teacher's gratefully accepting pussy. 

And as the two youths simultaneously shot off into the nakedly kneeling 
woman's two cock-filled orifices, she felt the crescendo of furious passion 
score her loins with another body-wracking orgasm. The two youngsters 
continued to buffet their teacher's body wildly between them until every 
ounce of their scalding young seminal fluids had been spewed out into her 
mouth and cunt, while she continued to be engulfed by the electrifying 
orgasmic waves surging through her own limbs, washing away everything from 
her mind except the sheer ecstasy that almost caused her to lose 
consciousness. 

At last the two minors sagged tiredly and withdrew their shriveling penises 
from her sperm-filled vagina and lips. Lorie sank heavily down on the 
mattress, her eyes closed in half-conscious delirium. She lay there, basking 
in the warm afterglow of sexual ecstasy and almost drifted off to sleep. 
Then something caused her to open her eyes. When she did, she saw Richie 
beginning to undress. 

"Oh yes how could I have forgotten," she said dreamily. "Act Three the scene 
where the director takes the ravaged heroine in any one of the novel and 
perverted ways his cunning mind can devise. Ready when you are, C.B." 

"I hope you like surprises, Teach," he said. She was stunned with 
incredulousness. "You ask me that at a time like this?" she offered 
ironically. 

Richie felt his heart beat faster at the sight of Miss Warner lying in total 
naked subjugation before him. He knew she hadn't experienced anything like 
this before in her thirty years of sheltered womanhood. She must never have 
dreamed that she'd let herself be screwed by two boys at the same time. It 
was obvious that she'd never smoked dope. Most likely she'd never submitted 
to the kind of surprise he had in store for her. Neither had he, for that 
matter. Though he was a little apprehensive about going through with it, he 
knew he had to. He'd always secretly wanted to try it, and he knew it would 
blow everybody's mind especially Lorie's. 

Lorie waited in complete surrender on the wrinkled bed. She'd never felt so 
soiled, so used in her life nor so satisfied. During the ravisliment she had 
been subjected to, first by Brooks, then by the other two boys, she'd 
completely lost track of time. The effects of the Scotch and the hashish 
still lingered. Undoubtedly they both contributed to her distorted 
perception, as well as to her heightened sensual awareness. She had never 
experienced such rousing climaxes in her life as the two which had cum 
seemingly one right after the other. She'd finally let her body surrender to 
her lust and ceased her mental resistance to the forbidden and masochistic 
pleasure she received from her wanton degradation at the hands of the three 
boys who had already fucked her. 

And now the fourth, Richie, was stripping off his clothes in preparation for 
the culmination of his exhilarating conquest. In spite of the orgy she had 
already participated in, in spite of the degradation, in spite of the 
satiety, the thought of Richie Perrera once again pressing his maddeningly 
desirable young body against hers began to fill her spent body with another 
surge of raw lust. 

Richie tossed off his pajama top and kicked off his shoes, then quickly 
began to undo his fly. He could see the gleam of interest in the blonde 
woman's green eyes as she rolled over onto her back to watch him undress, 
and he knew there would be no resistance from her, regardless of the 
indignities he subjected her to. Her ripe flesh was faintly shining with 
perspiration that clung to her milk-white skin in tiny, transparent beads. 
She was breathing coarsely, and her fully rounded breasts heaved upward with 
each heavy inhalation. Her shapely hips undulated slowly and sensuously on 
the bed in anticipation of the continued orgy of lust as she waited nakedly 
for him to ravish her. Her body was an open invitation, a party at which he 
was the guest of honor. 

Then slowly the boy-man dropped his pants, revealing his handsome erect cock 
and his taut testicles in all their naked glory to the passionate teacher 
who lay on the bed. He wasn't wearing undershorts, and the surprise of that 
naughty little gambit evoked an audible gasp from the young woman's throat. 
Richie was, by far, the sexiest kid she had ever known. 

She licked her lips and swallowed hard. "Don't keep me waiting forever," she 
purred in a come-hither voice. Her eyes were glazed with lust for the macho 
youth and she was consumed with longing for him. 

Lorie couldn't even believe it herself. After all the perverted experience 
that she had subjugated herself to, she was again on fire with a rampaging 
need. She wondered if the hashish weren't an aphrodisiac. 

As Richie dropped down to his knees on the bed between Lorie's parted 
thighs, he gave her one of his inscrutable, melting smiles. Then he turned 
slowly to look at the other faces in the room. They looked exhausted, 
beaten, spent. But there was an undeniable flicker of lust in their eyes. 

Lorie noticed it too, and it only reminded her of the sheer depravity of her 
actions. But there was no going back. After tonight, she would never be the 
same again anyway. Now the very perverseness of her sexual caprices only 
whetted her long-suppressed sexual appetites. Now she wanted more and more 
of the lustful subjugation. Now there seemed to be no limits to the needs 
and desires that controlled her. 

And Richie the little bastard was the catalyst. He opened the floodgates of 
carnal desire and he, as well as she, would be inundated by her insatiable 
sexual cravings. 

Trembling with her desperate desire, Lorie reached up with both arms to the 
naked teenager's shoulders and pulled him forcibly down towards her. She 
arched her hips and rotated them in an eager, obscene undulation as she 
stretched her thighs wide apart and prepared to receive her boy lover 
between them. 

Richie was momentarily tempted to forget his plan. The art teacher was ready 
to fuck she needed no further preparation, and he was so excited from having 
watched her get fucked by the other three boys that he would almost have 
been satisfied just to stick his cock in her, fuck her ass off, and let it 
go at that. But that would have been anticlimactic. It would have relegated 
his role in this debauching ceremony to a position of secondary importance. 
He demanded more of himself than that. His young protges expected more of 
him than that. This was still his show; he was the Director, and he was 
determined to upstage the other players, even though it meant resorting to 
something that shocked and frightened him almost as much as it would Miss 
Warner. 

Richie resisted her attempt to pull him down on her. Slowly he eased away 
from her, and Lorie let a low moan escape from her lips as she felt the 
rigid cock retreat from the soft furry nest between her thighs. She opened 
her eyes wide and looked at him uncomprehendingly. Was he going to deny her? 
Was he going to taunt her, to make her beg him to fuck her? That was too 
much. That was the final, pitiless indignity he could bestow; that would be 
the crowning act of contempt. 

Richie grinned at her in mocking triumph, then let his eyes slowly descend 
the length of her glistening, sensuous body, roving between her plumply 
spherical breasts, then across the smooth, flat plane of her belly, 
and...down between her thighs, where he could just distinguish the tiny tip 
of her clitoral bud between the pink seams of her already cum-flooded pussy. 
Her light blonde cunt hair was dewy with the residue of her own lubricating 
juices and the cum from the fucking of the other two boys. It only 
compounded his reluctance to go through with what he'd planned. But he knew 
also that her awareness of those factors would only make his overture more 
shocking in her eyes. 

Suddenly he moved toward her again, dropping his face eagerly to the nakedly 
up-thrust mounds of her breasts. He felt her body tense at the first contact 
of his lips and tongue on one of her rigidly swollen nipples. She sighed 
deeply, dropping her buttocks back on the bed, then arched her hips upward 
again as Richie slid even lower. His tongue etched a path of fire over the 
sensitive area beneath her heaving breasts, moving gradually lower down her 
belly toward the neat little navel. 

"Yes, yes," she encouraged, still not realizing what the young man intended 
to do. Her hands roamed over his muscular shoulders, urging him on towards 
his unrevealed destination. 

Richie flicked his tongue teasingly into Miss Warner's abdominal crater, 
prompting an even more enthusiastic moan from her lips. Then he hesitated 
again, taking a deep breath. He could smell a strangely pungent odor that 
beckoned him like a Circe to her loins. There was another odor, too. He knew 
that to be the smell of semen because he had smelled his own often enough. 
If he went through with his plan, he would taste the cum his two friends had 
spewed out into her vagina, as well as her hotly mingling cunt juices. 

For another brief moment he was actually tempted to back out. He had never 
performed cunnilingus the medical term, unless he was mistaken, for eating 
pussy. But he'd always been curious. He had heard his older friends talking 
it up when he was still on the streets and raising hell. The guys told him 
how much women liked it. It seemed to him that if a guy expected a woman to 
suck him off, it was only fair to do the same for her at least once in a 
while. But thinking about it and doing it were two different things. It 
would take all the courage he could muster to go through with the act 
himself. But if he backed out now, he would lose all respect for himself. He 
had to do it. 

He took another deep breath, and then he took the plunge. 

Lorie's body stiffened as Richie's face dropped lower between her thighs. 
She had never felt anything so exquisitely pleasing in her life as his 
tongue licking on the sensitive skin of her belly and his thick, dark curls 
tickling her inner thighs. But still she hadn't come to an awareness of what 
was actually happening. It was only when she heard Arnie Taggert's sudden 
exclamation of surprise that the shocking truth finally dawned on her. 

"He's going to eat her!" said the fat youth. 

Lorie's half-closed eyes suddenly opened wide. She stared up in shock at the 
three boys who were watching the obscene display with looks of unbridled 
lust on their faces. Then she looked down to see the dark curls of Richie's 
head move lower down her belly. At that instant she felt the sudden 
shattering contact of his tongue on the already tingling bud of her 
distended clitoris and she almost passed out from the devastating sensation 
that darted through her whole naked body. It felt better than anything she'd 
ever experienced in her whole life, and in spite of her feeling of 
embarrassment, Lorie's first impulse was to push the boy's head even lower, 
to part her thighs even wider to give his laving tongue even greater access 
to the forbidden fruit of her desire-ripened pussy. 

But it was too depraved. She just couldn't permit it. Never in her life had 
Lorie allowed anyone to do this to her, and the fact that she'd already been 
fucked in her cunt by two other boys only compounded the crime of lust. No, 
decency demanded that she resist the obscene assault no matter how badly she 
might want to yield to it. With a low cry of protest, she slipped her hands 
beneath Richie's shoulders and desperately tried to tug him upward. 

"No, Richie, no!" she gasped, her whole body contorted in a posture of 
gyrating passion from the maddening assault on her defenseless genitals. 

Richie closed his eyes and shrugged off her hands as he buried his head 
salaciously between her thighs. Now he could really smell the tantalizing 
scent of her nakedly spread cunt and the oddly inviting aroma of her loins, 
and the proximity of his tongue to her succulent pussy flesh made him 
shudder with excitement and apprehension. But he had to do it. He had to 
lick her cunt, no matter how nervous the prospect made him, because he knew 
that, in the long run, it was the best way to complete his triumph over the 
older woman. 

After another short hesitation, Richie burrowed his long wet tongue deep up 
into her teacher's moistly pulsating pussy lips, in spite of all her efforts 
to restrain him. Lorie gasped, her buttocks arching involuntarily and her 
thighs parting even wider as she felt Richie's tongue flick into the softly 
curling strands of her pussy hair. Then suddenly it whipped between the 
elongated lips to find renewed contact with the sensitive little bud of her 
clitoris. 

"Ooooooh!" she gasped aloud from the sudden electrifying contact. A shiver 
darted out from her loins, spreading through her naked belly and up to her 
swollen breasts and the apex of her nipples. It moved down to her knees and 
her calves and her ankles, so that even the tips of her toes seemed to curl 
and tingle with the spidery sensations telegraphed by the movements of 
Richie's tongue on her pussy tit. 

Then, as she quivered in helpless anticipation beneath him, spontaneous 
moans of passion pouring from her throat, he moved his hands up the 
straining tendons of her inner thighs and with a deliberate motion, pulled 
the softly moistened flanges of her cunt lips apart to expose the 
glistening, forbidden furrow. Groaning hungrily, Richie swiped the full 
length of her wildly throbbing vaginal slit with the damp swab of his 
tongue. 

A deeper moan issued from her lips as she jerked her body in a sudden 
convulsive movement, her buttocks grinding down spontaneously against the 
mattress to escape the maddening sensation of his depraved attack. Then with 
a soft sucking of his lips, Richie drew the throbbing, cum-slickened bud of 
her clitoris wetly between his teeth and caused Lorie to moan even louder 
from the provoking action. 

"Wow!" Arnie cried, his face flushed with excitement. "Look at Richie go!" 

"Look at Miss Warner go!" Brooks paraphrased. "He's driving her out of her 
gourd!" 

"Yeah, he sure is!" Dwayne seconded. 

Lorie stared in dismay at the feverish faces of the three boys. Then she 
closed her eyes, dropping her head back to the carpet, her hands beginning 
to sensuously massage Richie's olive-skinned shoulders as he intensified his 
wanton attack on her helpless loins. 

"Ooooohhh!" she gasped, hardly able to believe the excruciating sensations 
of pleasure that surged out from her genitals as Richie's tongue flicked 
deeper into the quivering tightness of her cunt. It felt like nothing she'd 
ever known in her life, and the stropping softness of his tongue was such an 
exhilarating contrast to the hardness of Arnie Taggert's dirigible cock that 
she could hardly bear the exotic sensations that renewed her loins with 
lustful longing. Richie was now immersing himself whole-heartedly in the 
obscene act of tongue-fucking, licking deeper and deeper into her tender 
vagina, sucking harder and harder at the throbbing little nipple of her 
clitoris. 

Then, as an even wilder chill shot through her and she closed her thighs 
tightly up around Richie's ears to hold his face to her loins, she twisted 
her body on the floor and reached down between her young lover's thighs to 
seize the lustfully swollen shaft of his erect penis. With little thought to 
what she was doing, she began to tug on it, urging him to reposition himself 
so that she could suck his cock while he was licking her cunt. 

Richie's moan at the contact of her hand on his penis was completely 
muffled, but he got the idea, shocking as it was to him. He hadn't expected 
it, but he wasn't about to resist. 

Richie shifted around, never removing his face from between Lorie's loins, 
and to the excited exclamations of the three boys who watched, mounted the 
art teacher in reverse angle. His face was still nestled snugly between her 
thighs, but his own erect cock was pointing straight down at her beautiful 
face. 

"Now, Richie," she moaned deliriously, "fuck me in the mouth!" 

In spite ,of all his pent-up bitterness and resentment, Richie couldn't 
quite resist the temptation to swell with pride as he heard the desperate 
plea from the art teacher. She was giving something to him that she knew he 
welcomed, she wasn't just taking. Much as he hated to admit it, he had to 
say that she was really quite a woman underneath that do-gooding garbage. 
(From that moment on, everything was just sheer, lust-driven experience. He 
ceased to reason when he lunged his hips suddenly downward and felt her 
guide the shaft of his cock straight to her hungrily waiting mouth.) 

He heard her muffled gasp as he rammed his cock brutally down into the 
teacher's throat, feeling at almost the same time, the first pre-orgasmic 
quivers begin in her loins. It excited him, and he continued his depraved 
licking and sucking of her cunt as he began to fuck her mouth in earnest, 
sliding his slick shaft in and out of the liquid depths of her throat with 
smooth, rhythmical strokes. He didn't bother to control his heated movement, 
knowing that it wouldn't be necessary to hold back his own orgasm. She was 
too far gone, too close to cumming for him to have to play the gentleman. 

Lorie trembled ecstatically beneath the ruthless assault. Little muffled 
whimpers poured from her lips as Richie drove his cock swiftly in and out 
between them, thrusting his impaling prick all the way down the length of 
her tongue as he continued the maddening invasion of her pussy with his own 
hotly licking tongue. She was going out of her mind. The climax was already 
stirring in her belly and she couldn't stop it even if she had wanted to. 

Lorie continued to quiver and quake for a few more moments, like a volcano 
that is about to erupt. She tossed her head wildly in wanton abandon, caught 
in the throes of passion and in frantic need of orgasmic release. She sucked 
ravenously on her boy lover's cock, desperately thirsting for his hot, 
creamy young cum. 

Then a sudden, violent spasm wracked her body. Another deeply muffled groan 
issued from her throat and she squeezed the boy's head tighter between her 
thighs, her naked buttocks pitching and rolling as the shattering waves of 
pleasure crashed in her loins and spilled over her belly and rolled along 
her breasts and her thighs and to every extremity of her body. Her violent 
release released the violent storm in Richie's body, sending hot torrents of 
creamy cock juice spurting out into the wantonly sucking woman's ravenously 
milking mouth. Eagerly she sucked and swallowed the salacious shower of 
semen, gloating gleefully as the hotly cascading jism glided down into her 
gullet below. 

The two mismatched lovers continued their frenzied tonguing of each other as 
they writhed and moaned and contorted together in front of the pop-eyed, 
slack-jawed initiates. Then, as though given a silent cue, they both sagged 
with exhaustion qn the accommodating mattress. Lorie gave a little whimper 
of protest as the boy withdrew his still-hard cock from her mouth. He 
pivoted on the bed, as though to get up. He looked at her very enigmatically 
for a moment. Then he did something else that threw her completely off 
guard. She felt a lump in her throat, a small tear threatened to surface, as 
Richie bent down and kissed her very warmly on her cum-smeared lips. 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

Lorie was busy tidying things up in the arts and crafts workroom. There was 
a big student exhibit coming up the following Sunday. Not only parents, but 
townspeople and correctional officers, as well as many of those who had 
served on committees and collaborated on the planning and construction of 
Porterville Youth Ranch were expected to show up. There would be an auction 
of the inmates' work, with half of the money going to Vocational 
Rehabilitation Fund, and the other half to be put into private trust funds 
for the individual student artists. Lorie was excited about the exhibit. 
This was her baby, a project that she had conceived and fought long and hard 
on. It had been really tough to convince the stodgy Warden Blanchard that 
this sort of undertaking had merit. Creative projects of this nature seemed 
frivolous, a waste of time and state money. The little bastards were here to 
learn a lesson by virtue of enforced incarceration and rigid 
discipline--they weren't here to paint pretty pictures and tie intricate 
knots and play with clay. 

But after weeks and weeks of quiet but persistent argument, she had finally 
convinced the Old Man to give the project his stamp of approval. He had even 
begun to realize that is the art teacher could pull it off, it would reflect 
very favorably upon the administration at Porterville, and the 
administration meant Will Blanchard. 

There was a quiet knock on the door. Lorie look at her watch: 6:30. Brooks 
was right on time. Of the four boys who had fucked her that Huxleyan 
evening, and quite a few times since then, Brooks was the most imaginative. 
There seemed to be no limits to his sexual curiosity, as well as his 
unbounded sexual appetites. Every day he had some kind of original plot to 
test on her. He was the only one of the boys she continued to make love 
with, other than Richie. Richie was Numero Uno in her life, and she had 
grown hopelessly enamored of the handsome youth. She marveled at his 
courage, his bravado, his ingenuity. She was thrilled with his artistic 
talent. He was sure to win first prize in the painting contest that was also 
an important integument of the student exhibit. Winning it meant a 
scholarship! He would be sixteen in a few months, which meant that he would 
either be transferred from Porterville to another correctional 
institution--a tougher one--or he would get a custodial parole; he would be 
free to move about in the world under the court-appointed aegis of a 
juvenile relations officer, since he had no parents. 

She wanted that so badly for him. Nothing could please her more than to see 
that boy have an opportunity to justify the faith and trust she had placed 
in him. 

She had even forgiven him for the awful betrayal. In spite of all her shame 
and humiliation at the things he subjected her to that night when he brought 
his three friends to the apartment, she had to acknowledge that it was in 
some ways, the best thing that ever happened to her. She had found a 
smoldering sexuality, a sensual proclivity that she had long suppressed in 
herself. She was fully satisfied, and it showed on her face and in the way 
she did everything. There was an ease, a carefree quality in her approach to 
life, and it reflected itself in a better communication with everyone at 
Porterville. Even the Old Man had noticed, and he evidenced his appreciation 
of her in a pithy compliment: "My, you're looking well these days, Miss 
Warner. You seem to be enjoying your assignments at Porterville." 

"Yes, I am...very much so." she had responded, repressing a giggle. If he 
only knew just how much she enjoyed her "assignments!" 

It would all come to an end, and soon. She knew that. She knew it would all 
come crashing down around her ears with a terrible cacophony of outrage and 
accusations. In fact, she was surprised it hadn't happened before now. But 
her persistent attempts to communicate with Richie on an emotional and 
psychological level were finally beginning to bear fruit. That was her 
justification for taking the enormous risks of exposure that she had taken. 

Though Richie usually maintained his callous, indifferent exterior, he had 
dropped his guard a little bit on more than one occasion, showing her the 
sensitive person he was underneath the crude and well-constructed facade. 
When The Fall of Lorie Warner did come, she could still consider that the 
whole affair had been worth everything she would have to pay for it, and she 
would have to pay dearly. 

But it was a coin with two heads--S physically she had never been so 
contented; spiritually and emotionally, she had never been so rewarded. The 
brash Puerto Rican kid had forced her to see herself for what she was--a 
hypocrite; a well-intentioned but misguided woman who was doing most things 
for the wrong reasons. He had, that fifteen your old kid, he had made her 
grow up. She would always be grateful to him for that. He had held up a 
pitiless mirror, and though .she winced at her reflection, she knew that 
seeing herself as she really was had enabled her to set about making the 
necessary rearrangements of personality that were obviously called for. 

* * * 

"Come in," she called out. 

The shy twelve year old stepped quietly into the room and locked the door 
behind him. "Hello, Miss Warner." he said half apologetically. 

"Hi, Brooks." she said cheerfully. She smiled warmly at him, relishing the 
boy's hungry gaze as he mentally undressed her. The excited twinkle in his 
eyes told her he had another perverted fantasy he wanted to make come true. 

"What's on your mind today, Brooks?" she said playfully. 

The boy hesitated for a moment, looking down at his shoes. "Well, you know 
this is our first day of freedom." 

"Freedom? she asked. 

"Yes, ma'am. Richie and I finally finished that damned paint job in the 
cafeteria." 

"Congratulations." she offered. 

"Thank you, Miss Warner." He hesitated again, then brushed the nonexistent 
lock of hair away from his forehead before saying, "I sort of 
thought...well, I wondered if we could try something different, to 
celebrate." 

Lorie felt a little tingle of excitement in her loins. She would never cease 
to marvel at the boy's insatiable curiosity--children were terrific that 
way. He had used it to explore the variety of possibilities open to two 
people sexually. She had been so inhibited herself, had had so many taboos. 
Though it was inappropriate and out of context, she couldn't help 
remembering that line from the Bible: "And a little child shall lead 
them..." 

"All right," she said softly. "What would you like to try today, sir?" 

"Maybe I'd better show you," he replied. 

"Very well. Lead on, MacDuff." 

She followed Brooks into the storage and supply room, which was now quite 
crowded with paintings and sculptures and other products of furious, 
creative endeavor. There was barely enough room to lie on the big, foam 
pillows wedged between the canvases and macram wall hangings. Those pillows 
had really seen a lot of action in the past couple of weeks, and so had the 
arts and crafts teacher! The battleground was stained with the issue of many 
exploits. She waited for her commanding officer's instructions. 

Brooks began to unbutton his shirt. Taking her cue from him, she also 
started unfastening the buttons of her short-sleeved blouse. Undressing 
before Brooks was a ritual she thought she'd never tire of. Even now, though 
she'd revealed her luscious body to him many times during the last two 
weeks, she felt a forbidden twinge of excitement at feeling his bright eyes 
roving hungrily over her enticing, naked flesh. 

The eager pre-teen wriggled hurriedly out of his jockey shorts. She unhooked 
her nylon brassiere, noting with approval that the boy was having no problem 
raising a hard-on. He hadn't been plagued with that problem since that first 
night he had fucked her in her cottage. 

She sensuously peeled off her sheer, bikini panties in front of the excited 
youth and sat down languorously on the pillows, opening her legs invitingly 
to tease him with the wanton display of her naked cunt. His penis rose and 
saluted her appreciatively. 

Lorie welcomed the slender boy in her arms as he again brushed the imaginary 
lock away from his brow and kneeled down between her legs. He kissed 
her...gently, at first, then with increasing fervor. A soft moan rose from 
her throat as she felt one of his small, warm hands cup each of her swollen 
breasts and eagerly massage the rosy aureoles before nursing on them with 
his boyish mouth. Then he let his tongue follow his hand down the sensitive 
plane of her belly, into the downy nest between her thighs. 

She arched her body and rasped her breath as Brooks stroked the moist 
crevice of her pussy with both his finger and his tongue, then burrowed up 
into her vagina. 

The boy continued the double manipulation of her excited genitals for a 
while longer, until her desire grew to dizzying proportions and her 
voluptuous body writhed in wanton abandon on the narrow bed of pillows. She 
couldn't wait any longer, she had to know his battle plan. 

Panting excitedly, she gazed up at the clever youngster. "What are we going 
to do, Brooks?" she begged to know. "You said it was something different, 
but I can't imagine..." 

"I want you to turn over on your stomach." he said. 

A look of surprise, perhaps slight disappointment, crossed her face, but she 
obediently rolled over on her belly in response to the boy's request. A 
little moan of frustration issued from her throat as he drew his slender 
finger out of her grasping cunt. The action made a wet little popping sound. 
Then she moaned with delight as once again he blazed a trail with his finger 
from the top of her pussy lips down the slick trench, over the excited bud 
of her clitoris, past the Venus fly trap and on to the tiny puckered circle 
of her anus. She gasped again as the boy thrust the skinny prod inside her 
secret anal stockade. 

At last she could no longer stand the suspense. She was certain he was going 
to fuck her dog-fashion, a thing they had already done on other occasions. 

"But Brooks...you mean you're going to fuck me doggy-style? We've already 
done that." 

"Not quite." he said enigmatically. Then he withdrew the finger from her 
anus and scooted around in front of her, so that his stiff little prick was 
bobbing enticingly just inches away from her mouth. "Suck my cock a little 
bit, please, Miss Warner, and get it all slippery." She complied without 
hesitation, still not comprehending what he had in mind. She leaned on one 
elbow and took the other hand and guided his hardened young cock into her 
mouth. Brooks lurched forward, gasping and grasping the sides of her blonde 
head with his small hands as he shoved his engorged young hardness deeper 
into her willing oral cavity. She licked around the tip of his heated organ, 
then made her mouth a sensuous oval and stroked the throbbing member with 
her wetly pursed lips. Brooks was so excited he could have popped off in her 
mouth. But he didn't want to. He just wanted to get his prick nice and wet 
and sticky with saliva and his own lubricating oils--so that it wouldn't 
hurt her so much. 

The art teacher got so caught up in sucking the boy's cock that she 
momentarily forgot about his perplexing and undisclosed plan. Then just as 
confusingly as before, he abruptly withdrew the ripe banana of flesh from 
her mouth and crawled quickly back to his position behind her nakedly raised 
buttocks. 

She reacted with surprise, frustration and confusion. What was he trying to 
do to her? Brooks was so sweet, so tender. He had never shown the slightest 
sort of sadistic behavior with her. Could this sort of teasing and taunting 
be the first sign of intended torment? That's not like Brooks! 

Then he slowly stuck his finger into her crinkled little asshole again and 
slid it gently back and forth. Suddenly she got the horrible message. She 
couldn't believe it...It was to perverted for words. A spontaneous groan 
rose in her throat as Brooks pushed the finger in further. In spite of her 
efforts to contract the sensitive sphincter muscle around her rectum, the 
finger wormed slowly up inside her. 

"Brooks...you can't mean..." She never finished the question. 

"That's right, Miss Warner." Then he took a deep breath before completing 
the sentence, "I want to...to fuck you...in the ass!" 

So it was true, she thought. Was there no limit to the youngster's perverted 
imagination? After everything else he had subjected her to, after all the 
kinky experimentation, he wanted to sodomize her too. He wanted to fuck her 
in the ass! 

"Brooks, dear..." she began. "That's going too far. I just can't allow you 
to do that to me." 

"Please, Miss Warner," the boy pleaded behind her. "I've been thinking about 
it ever since that first night at your place, when you had me stick my 
finger in there. I've read about it in a dirty book. People do it." 

Despite her fear and apprehension, Lorie had to laugh. Brooks was something 
else! 

"But Brooks, that's too perverted!" she protested. 

"No it isn't, Miss Warner. I read about it in another book too--not a dirty 
one. That book said it's perverted only if it's used to replace sexual 
intercourse. This is not a replacement, it's just an alternative, a 
supplement." 

The kid was one for the books. Twelve years old and two weeks beyond his 
first sexual experience with a woman and he was already begging her to 
submit to the most unnatural act of sexual perversion ever recorded in the 
history of mankind: sodomy. But the worst part of it all was that, in spite 
of her fear and shame, she too derived a perverse thrill from the thought of 
subjecting herself in this shocking and depraved manner to this adorable but 
debauched little sex fiend. It seemed so debasing, so taboo, that it became 
almost irresistible. 

She could feel the pressure of Brooks' erect cock knocking at the little 
brown door. She groaned with fear and uncertainty as the boy pushed gently 
against her. Even that slight pressure was painful, and she was tense with 
anticipation of the horrifying ordeal to follow. 

But there was no escaping it now. It was too late to protest, just as her 
other protestations had died stillborn during that night of narcotic 
madness. She couldn't thwart the boy's obscene intention to take her anally, 
"Greek style," as she had heard it referred to snidely before. 

"Aaaaagghhhh!" she cried into the acoustical shield of the pillows as the 
forbidden little orifice was stretched wide for the first time by a cock 
head. "Aaaaagghhhh!" she cried again as she felt it ease inside the virgin 
cove. The sudden white-hot pain caused tears to flood her closed eyes. 

She couldn't even contract her rectum defensively to ward off the unwelcome 
invader. The throbbing spear had gained entry to her posterior fortress, and 
now she had to submit to it fucking her there whether she wanted to or not. 

She continued to sob from the pain as the conquering young cock slithered 
slowly upwards in the tiny rubbery tunnel of her rectum. She felt his hot 
thighs against her flanks as he skewered deeper and deeper up between her 
helplessly spread all-cheeks until he had impaled his heavily marauding 
young hardness to the hilt up inside her tightly clinging anal passage. 

Then, to her surprise, she found that the entry wasn't quite as terrible as 
she thought. Once the initial pain of penetration had been experienced, once 
she had gotton accustomed to the shock of inexperienced sensation, she was 
able to relax somewhat, allowing another sensation--that of 
pleasure--masochistic pleasure--to temper the discomfort. The raw and 
forbidden violation fired her loins with desire. The very awareness of the 
unspeakable act inflamed her with lewd and lustful longing. 

Then, as Brooks began to fuck slowly backwards and forward in her rectum, 
the soft clap of the tight sac holding his cum-laden testicles against the 
passion-filled slit of her cunt below distracted her from the pain, and 
tempered it to bearable proportions. Now her whimpers of pain and protest 
were gradually evolving into mewls of sodomistic passion. 

Brooks grunted excitedly at Miss Warner's growing pleasure response. He 
moved his hand around her thigh to her soft underbelly and once more began 
to stroke the vertical slit of her pussy. He massaged the tiny mound between 
the secreting slit where the woman's nub of orgasmic pleasure was centered, 
evoking gasps and moans of expectant fulfillment from the sodomized art 
teacher. She reacted spontaneously with an upward thrust of her firmly 
curved buttocks against his sweating midsection, forcing his heated young 
cock to jerk up deeper into her assaulted rectum. 

His movements were controlled, cautious, Miss Warner's asshole was twice as 
tight as her cunt, and so soft and hot and rubbery up inside! The depravity 
of it, the tightness...he wasn't going to be able to control himself for 
very long, but he was determined to do everything he could to make her 
achieve her own climax, even if he did shoot off sooner than he wanted to. 

He probed her pussy with his finger and stoked faster along the throbbing 
little clitoral nub. 

Lorie languished in a limbo of confusion for a few minutes. She could no 
longer distinguish between the pleasure and the pain, the sexual agony and 
the sexual ecstasy. At first she had dreaded the ordeal, she had hoped for a 
speedy end. But then she suddenly found her body beginning to demand more 
and more of the perverted torment, though her will and reason demanded it to 
stop. 

There was a quality even to the pain that she found irresistibly exciting; a 
perverse appeal about the lewd act that beckoned as nothing else had. In a 
sudden unexpected gesture, she drew her knees up under her belly and rocked 
backwards, shoving her ass against him violently and forcing his cock deeper 
up into her inwardly sucking asshole. 

Brooks was hardly able to believe his eyes as the teacher turned her face 
around to him--it was a contorted mask of lust, then she groaned in a 
quavering voice, "Fuck me harder, Brooks! Fuck my asshole as hard as you 
can! 

Don't worry--I can take it...so shove it into me hard!" 

That was more than he could handle. An instant later, fucking into her as 
hard as he could with long, ass-flattening strokes, he lost all control. His 
body quivered against the nakedly kneeling teacher's ripely grinding 
ass-cheeks. The passion-crazed woman was gyrating wildly, screwing her 
buttocks madly back around his virile skewering young hardness. 

Brooks groaned as the hotly erupting liquid-passion of his balls began to 
pour out of his cock filling his teacher's now ravenously milking rectum 
with creamy, white cum in a lewd sexual enema. As he continued his wild 
flooding of her virginal receptacle, he felt her shuddering with familiar 
shivers of quaking orgasmic surges. 

Cataclysmic shocks of pleasure shook her body. She gasped and moaned without 
restraint from the sheer bliss that consumed her. The pain was gone from her 
cum-filled rectum. She was engulfed in waves of sexual euphoria. 

After moments of enduring delight, after the panting and the grunting had 
subsided to a more rhythmic and quieter respiration, Brooks sagged on top of 
her. "That was fantastic, Miss Warner!" he whispered appreciatively in her 
ear. "You're the most beautiful woman in the whole world!' he beamed. She 
was duly complimented by the twelve year old. 

"Well you're quite a man too, Brooks!" she told him. Wow! From that moment 
on, Brooks was ten feet tall. 

 CHAPTER TWELVE 

Lorie Warner looked in the mirror as she put the finishing strokes of 
lipstick on her mouth. She combed her wavy, blonde hair, then stood there 
looking at herself appraisingly for a long, hard moment. She could see the 
sparkle in her eye, the glow in her cheeks, the contented expression that 
met her glance from the face reflected back to her. There was no doubt that 
she was a happier, more relaxed person than the one who walked up those 
steps to the big double doors of Porterville's main building a few months 
ago. 

Meeting Richie Perrera, letting him make love to her and turning her on to 
juvenile sex with his friends was the odd thing that had brought her out of 
herself in ways she never, ever had expected. She didn't think of herself as 
corrupt, nor as a corrupting influence on the morals of these young boys. In 
fact, they taught her most of what she had learned about the art of 
lovemaking! They, especially Richie, and then Brooks, knew a lot more about 
it than she did. It was another example of the pupil teaching the teacher. 

Yes, she smiled at her reflection, she was very happy at the moment. The 
exhibit was tomorrow. Everything was ready: paintings were hung, sculptures 
were mounted on tables and pedestals, the pottery and the weavings and the 
macram all were very attractively labeled and displayed. The exhibit was 
sure to make a smashing impression on the invited guests. It would probably 
become an annual event at Porterville...though she knew she would not be 
responsible for next year's exhibit...that was too much to hope for under 
the circumstances. She just prayed fervently that Richie would win first 
prize in the competitive painting category, and the overall contest. He 
deserved it his painting was a Renoir-like portrait of a woman who bore a 
striking resemblance to his art teacher, except that the woman in the 
painting had dark hair and eyes. But the breasts thinly disguised under the 
romantic white camisole were unmistakably twin likenesses of Lorie Warner's 
ripely rounded bosom. It was a silent tribute to the thirty year old woman. 
She only hoped the facial resemblance would not be apparent to the warden. 

There was a soft, familiar knock at her cottage door. A pang of excitement 
shot through her. That would be Richie... 

She ran to the door and opened it. The beautiful youth gave her one of his 
melting grins. "Hi, Teach." he said. "I'm here for the anatomy lesson." 

"Silly!" she giggled girlishly as she kissed him lightly on the cheek. He 
came into the room, a sketch pad under his arm and a couple of charcoal 
pencils in his hand. He was wearing his pajama top tucked into his Levi's. 
She knew he had nothing on underneath, and it excited her to think about his 
smooth, hard young cock, and his full testicles encased in the conflicting 
denim. 

"You look beautiful, really beautiful tonight." he said sincerely, 
appraising her lush figure as well as her smiling face. 

There was something about the way he said it that really touched her. Richie 
was never free with compliments to put it mildly. In all their nights of 
love-making he had never said any of the things she so desperately wanted to 
hear. He had never even said she looked nice, let alone "beautiful". The 
closest he came to anything reassuring was his occasional reference to her 
sexual capabilities, and that had made her feel more like an object than a 
person with a soul and an intellect and a deep longing to be loved by the 
boy she so desperately cared for. 

He moved closer to her. "Kiss me, Lorie," he told her. She melted again. 
There were other sensations barking at her body besides those of lust. 
Eagerly she embraced the handsome youth, pressing against his broad chest 
with fervid emotion. He suddenly dropped the sketch pad and the pencils and 
threw his arms around her in a deeply meaningful embrace. He kissed her 
hungrily, but there was more than passion in his sensitive lips, more than 
lust in his caressing tongue. There was an integument of emotion, of feeling 
long withheld from her. 

He drew back suddenly from her lips and looked at her in a way he had never 
looked at her before. His gaze was soulful, penetrating, enigmatic. Then a 
quixotic grin broke the spell. "Hey, Teach...let's get on with the figure 
drawing course." 

Lorie was still dazed from the embrace and the kisses and his strange, new 
behavior. She shuddered with emotion. There had been something else in his 
eyes, a dusky portent of things to come, and it filled her with dread. 
Perhaps because they communicated to her in that one instant the thing they 
both knew but buried in a deep, dark corner of their sub-consicous minds. 

Richie took his sketch pad and the charcoal and assumed his director's 
position in the big, over stuffed chair as she started to do a sultry strip 
tease before him. He made rapid sketches of her in various stages of 
undress. She couldn't see his cock bobbing under the masking wall of paper, 
but she knew it was flowering into another thrilling erection, and she would 
see it soon enough. It would suddenly burst from between the folded flanges 
of fabric and stare at her teasingly and temptingly while he lunged back 
into the chair, waiting for her to kneel before him and put her mouth around 
the palpitating organ, or straddle him and let the lubricated shaft slip 
into the sensual sarcophagus of her cunt. 

"Pose for me, September Morn." he asked her. 

She readily complied, slipping into a variety of positions as he did sketch 
after sketch of her into two minute intervals. She spread her legs 
languorously on the bed, one knee tucked under her, an arm extended on the 
pillow. She kneeled, like Psyche on the rock, and looked into an imaginary 
pool of water. She stood seductively with her hip thrust forward, like a 
Matisse odalisque. She turned her back and looked over her shoulder at him, 
like Sargent's "Egyptian Girl". Then she was a Modigliani portrait, Durer's 
'Eve", Titian's "Dance" and a Degas ballerina. 

The drawings mounted around his ankles like stacked leaves in autumn. 
Finally she asked, "Can the model take a break now, Michelangelo?" 

"Sure, kid." he grinned without looking up. He was concentrating on the last 
drawing. She lay on the bed with her hands under her head, watching him. 
Then he put the drawing on the table, face down, got up and removed his 
clothes, and walked over to the bed, sporting a half-erection and a strange 
smile. 

Without bothering to kiss her, he put his mouth between the soft folds of 
her breast and licked the sensitive cleft with his warm, wet tongue. She 
moaned in eager anticipation. Then he teasingly tickled the warm, 
rose-tipped nipples with the tip of his laving instrument. He lapped at the 
ripe flesh as a puppy would lap a bowl of milk, sending tingles of wanton 
desire through her breasts and down her belly to her hungering loins. Then 
his head moved lower, and he brushed her soft abdominal flesh with his dark, 
thick curls of hair. She responded by shivering noticeably and whimpering 
approvingly. 

He scooted backwards on his knees, and she felt the fully hardened shaft in 
his groin brush the warm underbelly and tickle the sepia-colored cunt hair 
between her legs. More moans and shivers of excitement and delight. 

Then he grasped her heated thighs gently in his hands and levered them 
further apart. With his fingers he spread the quivering lips of her pussy 
open wide, then planted a tender kiss on the little pouting titty of her 
clitoris. She squirmed and bucked involuntarily as the scintillating touch 
of his lips sent thrills coursing through her body. 

Saying nothing, he renewed his knowledgeable attack on her slippery chute, 
lathering it with passionate tongue kisses and sucking the succulent tissue 
into his mouth. She groaned and writhed and uttered gasps of passion and 
desire. "Yes...oh yes, my baby. Do me...do me." she coaxed. Never, in all 
the times he had eaten her, never had he done it this well...with this much 
feeling and tenderness. That was the difference: tenderness. 

Richie lifted the marble thighs high in the air, exposing the smoothly 
curved crevice of her ass and the soft little crypt of her anus to his 
lusting eyes. He looked at her widening eyes and gave her a sly smile. Then, 
still looking at her, he stuck his tongue out as far as it would go and 
wagged it in the air. She gasped with disbelief. He wasn't going to do that! 
He wasn't going to stick his tongue up in her back there! 

Oh yes he was! Before she could protest, Richie thrust his wetly stiffened 
tongue tip up into the softly flexing lips of her rectum. There was a sharp, 
but pleasantly pungent taste, and it was an exciting one, too. After all, if 
he could eat her cunt after two friends had fucked their cum into her there, 
he could just as well stick his tongue in her asshole. That was the last 
venture into the sexual unknown, as far as he knew, except for the other 
thing...the thing Brooks told him about a few hours ago...He'd have to try 
that someday...But not tonight. 

Lorie went wild under the forbidden invasion of his tongue in her openly 
flaring little anal mouth. She thought she had experienced every kind of 
sensation anyone could feel, but this was new, this was something out of 
this world. Not even the wild ass-fuck she had subjugated herself to earlier 
with Brooks could compare with this. This was heaven pure pleasure, without 
the masochistic pain. And it was made all the more rewarding because it was 
Richie's tongue, and Richie was the boy-man she loved. 

The Puerto Rican Adonis continued to lap and prod into her rectum with his 
tongue. He was excited as hell too, but he wanted to give her this for free. 
He went again to her cunt, and licked and Frenched the palpitating Papillion 
between her down-lined pussy lips. Then he went back to her little brown 
asshole, and poked it some more with his tongue. Her legs were flailing 
wildly in the air as he held her up by the thighs, and he almost got 
pummeled by her heels a couple of times. She was going to cum any second, he 
could tell, and he swelled with pride at his latest coup it was damned 
rewarding to know you could satisfy a woman so well! 

Lorie was kicking and bridling in the air, bouncing her head back and forth 
on the pillow, devoured by lusting and lascivious pleasure. Her body was on 
fire, and the holocaust was rampaging in her loins. Then it spread into 
every taut-nerved region of her body as the orgasmic conflagration roared 
within her and all hell broke loose in her body. Sheets of raging fire 
spread to every extremity. She was consumed with ecstasy as Richie continued 
to drive her wild with his hot and forbidden lickings and caresses up inside 
the hotly sensitive walls of her asshole. She was still shaking violently 
when he released her legs and crawled up between them to plant a passionate 
soul-kiss on her lips. She tasted her own secretions, both vaginal and anal, 
and it excited her again with perverted longing and surprise. 

"That was for you, Teach." he grinned at her. "I owed you one, remember?" 

She perused her mind for a clue. Then it hit her that first day in the 
supply room, when she had sucked him off...that's what he was talking about. 

She hugged him to her, still shaking with emotion and with the lingering 
waves of her orgasmic release. "Oh darling...my darling, darling Richie." 
she whispered hoarsely. "Fuck me, darling. Please fuck me now. I want you 
inside me." 

Richie kissed her passionately again, then scooted down on her body until 
his throbbing cock head was touching the warmly melting lips of her cunt. 
She gasped again and spread her perspiring thighs, inviting him to fuck her, 
inviting him to spew out his virile young seed far up into her welcoming 
belly. 

Slowly, very slowly he guided the rock-hard shaft into the warmly waiting 
walls of her vagina. She moaned again and screwed her buttocks hungrily up 
onto the pacifying probe. Slowly again, he eased it into her, until it was 
deeply imbedded in the possessively clinging walls of her pussy. She thought 
she had never experienced such exquisite agony as the anticipation of the 
royal fucking she was to have came fully into focus. Prolonging the 
inevitable was a thrilling torture that fired her once again with naked 
desire. Another triumph for the conquering hero. She was gotten again. The 
teacher was being taught. 

"Oh darling, I want you so badly!" she gasped at him. "Give it to me, 
darling...Give me your beautiful cock." she begged. 

He began to fuck slowly back and forth inside her, confidently, rhythmically 
with smooth, long strokes. She met his thrusts with her own upward heaving 
motions. Gradually the tempo increased. They were in synch, totally 
compatible in the sensuous tango of sexual love. It was more than she had 
hoped for; it was a total involvement of minds, bodies and spirits, and she 
felt herself blasting off to a new planet where she had never been before. 
She had glimpsed it through a dark glass, but she hadn't been there yet. Now 
she was on her way. 

On and on the young stallion posted on his lovely mare. They roiled and 
writhed and grunted and groaned and whispered obscene words of love to each 
other, until...he tensed significantly on top of her, and she answered his 
mating call with a fervent plea: "Oh fill me...fill me...fill me with your 
sweet, darling young cum!" 

"Yes...yes...! " he gasped. "Take it, Lorie. Take it all, Lorie." And he 
poured out his bittersweet male juices far up into the impassioned woman's 
ravenously siphoning cunt, filling her with his hot creamy sperm and the 
telling witness of his orgasmic release. That was the fuel that fired the 
rocket that shot her into outer space and she soared dizzily into the 
greatest heights of cum-propelled ecstasy that she had ever known. She was 
not only full of her youthful lover's cum, she was full of love for him, and 
in those moments of renewed climactic fervor, she realized another dimension 
to the sexual design, a kind of spiritual fulfillment that abetted the 
electrifying climax and gave her total absolution from any remorse that she 
had previously suffered. 

This is what it's all about, she knew at last. This is what it's supposed to 
be. She knew now that she would never again have sex with Brooks or any of 
the boys at Porterville. She was truly a woman now, and she couldn't play 
"student" or teacher to any youngster again. 

"I love you, Richie." she said suddenly, unable to hold back the sentiment 
any longer. She hadn't wanted to actually say it not because she was ashamed 
to admit it to him, she was sure it was perfectly obvious anyway but because 
she feared it might cause a painful breakdown in communications. A boy like 
Richie probably couldn't handle such emotion, particularly from an older 
woman, a woman he had mistreated and misused. But it was said, and like 
everything else, there was no going back. 

For a moment he said nothing. His head was nestled in her neck and she could 
feel his warm breath against her sensitive skin. Then he raised his head and 
gave her another deeply penetrating stare. She thought she saw the tiniest 
semblance of a tear in the corner of one eye. Then he kissed her again with 
great tenderness and longing and a kind of desperate regret. Moments later, 
he got up, went over to the chair and began to dress. 

Lorie lay there watching him, admiring his smooth, muscled body. "I want to 
sculpt you some day," she said, voicing her thoughts. 

"Why not?" he answered, not looking at her. Was he angry? she wondered. 

"May I see your sketches?" she attempted. 

"Sure." he answered laconically. He gathered them up and brought them in a 
neat pile over to the bed. He sat down beside her as she exclaimed and 
marveled at his artistic genius. They were only quick sketches, but they 
were brilliant. They showed an eye for form and a sensitivity that was 
beyond her own capabilities. "These are wonderful, Richie! They're 
marvelous!" she enthused. 

He gave a kind of shrugging acknowledgement. "Let me see the other one, the 
one on the table. Or is that a reject?" she said, smiling at the youth. 

He reluctantly got up and went over to get it, hesitating as he looked at it 
again. Then he crumpled it up and threw it in the wastebasket. "Yeah, it's a 
reject." he affirmed. When he finished dressing, he gathered the sketches up 
and put them neatly under the unused sheets in the drawing pad. 

"Aren't you afraid someone will find those, Richie?" asked Lorie, a frown 
marking her brow. 

"Naw." he grinned. "I have a secret hiding place for my things. Nobody's 
wise to it yet." 

He didn't kiss her again, but went to the door and opened it a crack to 
check for spys. "By the way, Lorie," he said quietly, "I think it would be a 
super idea if you cooled it with Brooks, okay? You're my woman, ya know. If 
you wanna play house, you can play enough house with me." He was gone then, 
stealing furtively into the night like a cat, leaving her agape with 
amazement and stunned with the impact of his strong parting words. She would 
remember them the rest of her life, no matter how many men she ever slept 
with, no matter whether she married happily and became a nice little 
suburban housewife somewhere, no matter what ever happened to her again. 

"You're my woman..."he had said. "You're my woman..."If she were to die at 
that moment, it would all have been totally worthwhile...It was the only way 
he knew to tell her he loved her... 

It wasn't until the next morning that she remembered to look at the crumpled 
sketch Richie had thrown in the wastebasket. She gasped as she looked at it. 
There was a perfect caricature of Brooks, complete with horns and a tail, 
sodomizing a cartoon Blondie as Warden Blanchard looked on, a bullwhip in 
one hand and his gigantic prick in the other! 

 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

The hot, Nevada sun was up early, and so was Lorie Warner. She felt both 
nervous and excited. Today was the big day, the day she'd worked so hard 
for; the day the students had labored so diligently for. There were rumors 
that even the Governor might attend! 

She carefully selected the green jersey dress the one she had worn that 
night for the "initiation" ceremonies...both hers and the three young 
converts to male-female sexual relations. She wanted to look her best, not 
only for the guests and the staff and the other students, but for 
Richie...This dress would guarantee it. 

She breakfasted quickly at the cottage, which she often chose to do rather 
than to face the overly bright lights in the ranch cafeteria at eight 
o'clock in the morning. Sunday breakfast was at nine, followed by chapel, 
which was a little better. But she still preferred to greet the students at 
the exhibit rather than give away the surprise of her green dress in the 
lunchroom, where she would be just one of many sleepy-eyed people milling 
about with a tray of food and institutional silverware. 

On her way to chapel she saw Jenkins, the math instructor. "Well, well, 
well...if it isn't the lovely Miss Warner, the pride of Porterville." he 
beamed. "Good morning." she acknowledged. God, how she hated that man's 
guts. There was something so slimy, so creepy about him. He even grimaced 
when he smiled, as though he were in pain. And sarcastic? Well! Everything 
he said was a sarcasm. But his remark still made her feel uneasy. Why did he 
have to address her that way? 

She assumed a place on one of the hard, oak pews in the chapel. This was the 
protestant service; the Catholic mass had been said earlier, and she had 
seen the priest leaving the chapel when she entered it. 

She looked around. There were all the familiar faces, including that of 
Brooks, who was looking at her very curiously. She smiled warmly at the 
young boy, but he looked at her like a startled fawn and quickly bowed his 
head to pray. 

Warden Blanchard was there, too, reading the order of worship. He looked up 
at her furtively, then quickly looked down at his reading again. Oh well, he 
was a queer duck anyway, she thought. That sort of behavior didn't surprise 
her. Still, she couldn't help but feel a slight queasiness in the pit of her 
stomach. Was it her imagination, or was there something funny going on? 

After chapel, Warden Blanchard approached her. as she stood on the step 
talking to one of the women proctors. 

"Good morning, ladies." the Old Man said warmly. He sounded like a church 
deacon paying a visit to the shut-ins. 

"Good morning, Warden." she responded, as did the other women. 

"Miss Warner, could I speak to you for a few minutes in my office, please?" 
he asked her with unusual solicitude. 

"Certainly, Warden." she replied. Why can't he talk to me right here, she 
wondered. 

A few minutes later she was standing before the big, oak desk, waiting for 
him to be seated. The tall, portly man sat down heavily at his desk. He put 
his elbows on the dark green blotter and rested his chin on his hands. For 
what seemed like an eternity, he stared at her with piercing, narrowed eyes. 
He looked up and down her body, sending a suppressed shudder through her. He 
had never done that before! She had only caught him eyeing her like that 
once or twice when she had suddenly turned around to face him. At those 
times, he made it a point to blink and turn his head. 

"What did you wish to speak to me about, sir?" she asked him. "I do have to 
get to the exhibit hall rather soon, you know." 

"Yes, yes I know you do, Miss Warner." He looked at her for another painful 
moment, then he heaved a sigh and opened the center drawer in his desk. He 
never took his eyes from her as he reached in and slowly took out a sheaf of 
white papers that Lorie...recognized...as...the...sketch paper...from 
the...pad...that Richie... 

"Oh my God, No!" she gasped in horror, putting both hands up to her mouth. 

"Oh my God, yes...Miss Warner," the warden paraphrased, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! 
YES!" he boomed, laying a sketch on the desk before her with every "Yes." 
Lorie's eyes filled with tears, and she sobbed into her hands. The one 
concern she had was Richie what would happen to him now...what had happened 
to him? 

"In all my years Of criminal work, in all my years of correctional work in 
detention facilities, I have never seen anything as reprehensible as this 
and I'm not talking about these pretty little drawings done by a mewling, 
teenage lothario, Miss Warner! I'm talking about the corruption of minors in 
a state institution! I'm talking about the seduction of these juvenile 
offenders by a trusted state employee who was hired in a judiciary and 
rehabilitation capacity by the State of Nevada to mold and encourage and 
help reform these unfortunate little snot-nosed bastards who are unlucky 
enough to be here in the first place!" 

"The State of Nevada is paying you a salary to teach, Miss Warner, and that 
obviously does not mean to teach twelve and thirteen year old boys how to 
screw a woman!" he thundered, the anger blazing in his eyes like firing 
pistols. 

What could she say? It was true. The warden was right. She was the adult, 
therefore she had the greater responsibility for her actions. And as far as 
the law was concerned, she had total responsibility for every sordid thing 
that transpired between her and those minor youths. She could be sent to 
prison! That hadn't really registered with her till now. 

Lorie still sobbed violently into her hands. She couldn't look at the 
warden. She could find no words of defense. She didn't even have the guts to 
ask about Richie then. She knew it hadn't been him who betrayed her secret 
to the warden. Who was it? Arnie? Dwayne? Brooks?... 

She felt a piece of cloth demanding attention at her face-shielding hands. 
It was a handkerchief, the warden's handkerchief. She gratefully accepted 
the truce offering, daubed her eyes and blew her nose. Then she hung her 
head in shame; she still couldn't face him. 

He was speaking to her again. "I've given this situation a great deal of 
long, hard thought in the past few hours, Miss Warner. Legally, you know, I 
am empowered to send you to prison..." (Lorie blanched. She was trembling 
visibly.) 

"But that action would only call this outrage to the attention of the 
authorities, as well as to the public at large. I've served my time, too, 
you know. And I'm not about to be drummed out of public service at this late 
day in life particularly under the shadow of scandal." 

The warden paused. He explored her body with his eyes again. "I also 
considered another possibility...one that would certainly be beneficial to 
my..."interests", shall we say. You're a very attractive woman, Miss Warner. 
I have noted that fact from the beginning. In fact, I have long considered 
you an itch that I'd love to scratch..." (Lorie shuddered again.) "...But 
that's out of the question too, of course. Much as I'd like to have you 
"instruct" me on the fine points of female anatomy, my position as 
administrator of this institution forces me not only to abide by the laws of 
this state, not only to execute them for the benefit of the state and the 
juvenile offenders incarcerated here, but above that, to set an example...to 
be an exemplar, you might say. I am expected to exhibit the highest moral 
character possible. The same is expected of every other employee under my 
jurisdiction here..." (Lorie winced. The warden was absolutely correct.) 
"Naturally, I have carried out these moral responsibilities at some 
sacrifice to my personal needs and interests." (Lorie felt a twinge of pity 
for the big, older man. She'd never thought about him quite that way, as 
someone who needed love and affection and sexual satisfaction as much as 
anybody else. Of course it must be terribly difficult for him.) 

"You know, Miss Warner," he continued, "I envy that little spic bastard in 
some ways, he's got the world by the tail. I'd give anything to have his 
talents, his cleverness, his youth...The boy could have a stunning future if 
he doesn't let his genitals get in the way. Nothing would please me more 
than to see Perrera get the hell out of Porterville and he will before too 
long. I just hope to God he doesn't wind up in the State pen!" 

"Where is Richie? What are you going to do to him?" she asked anxiously. 

"I'd like to beat the shit out him myself just between you and me, Miss 
Warner." the Old Man went on. "But that wouldn't help him or me though it 
sure would please the hell out of me, I must admit. But I can't 
conscientiously do that either. Perrera will spend some time in the 
meditation room, then he'll resume his normal schedule here at the ranch." 

"But that's so cruel!" she cried. 

"Is it really, Miss Warner?" the warden asked reprovingly. "Is it as cruel 
as what you've done to him?...exposing him to sexual experimentation with a 
woman twice his age...firing him up so that he'll be trying to violate every 
female person at Porterville?" 

His words cut like a knife. Again the warden was right. In allowing Richie 
to degrade her sexually, in willingly participating in his sexual 
adventures, she had unwittingly abetted his further exploits, placing him in 
a position to risk further punishment! 

"It's too bad, really. I've seen a change gradually take place in the boy, 
and I've no doubt that it's been due to your influence, your interest in him 
and I'm not talking about "bed" interest, though I'm sure that's taken some 
of the pressure off him. I think you have been a very positive influence on 
these kids. It's a rotten shame it had to end this way..." 

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes wide with fear. She felt nauseous. 

Will Blanchard opened a side drawer in his desk, took out another sheet of 
paper and placed it before her. "I made a phone call to a friend of mine in 
San Francisco who heads up a home for the aged and infirm. He's agreed to 
take you on as a rehabilitation worker. It's a probationary type of 
assignment, Miss Warner. That is, you will be allowed to prove yourself 
there, providing they don't catch you beating off any senile senior 
citizens!" 

"But..." she began. The warden cut her short. 

"Please, Miss Warner. You're getting off easy. If it wouldn't reflect badly 
on me, I'd throw your enticing ass in jail! But one thing is certain you'll 
never work with teenage kids again not as long as I'm alive. Don't even 
try!" 

"That's the worst punishment I could possibly have, Warden. You know that, 
don't you?" Lorie sobbed. 

"Would you sign this for me?" he said, in a way that was more command than 
inquiry. She looked at the paper, more tears welling in her eyes, then she 
looked up again at the warden. "When do I have to leave?" she asked in a 
barely audible voice. 

"Today...at five o'clock. I've arranged for a ride into town with a friend 
who'll be at the showing. You'll get a bus into Carson City, and from there, 
a plane to San Francisco. I want you out of the State of Nevada tonight, 
Miss Warner." 

The warden held a pen up to her. With trembling fingers she dumbly took the 
ball point and scribbled something on the bottom of the page. 

Then the Old Man reached in his breast pocket and drew out an envelope. 
"Here," he said, "This is in lieu of severance pay. Now go back to your 
cottage and pack your things. Our guests will begin arriving in about an 
hour." 

Lorie paused at the door and turned to look back at the Old Man again. 
"How...how did you...find out?" she questioned softly. 

"You really want to know?" 

"Yes...please." 

"Jenkins overheard a couple of the kids whispering about it in the horse 
barn yesterday. He set it up with the house proctor in Perrera's cottage. 
They followed him to your place and nabbed him on the way back." 

She hung her head again and sobbed some more. She felt more remorseful then 
than she had felt during or after any of the sexual escapades with Richie or 
his friends. She had gotten him into this awful mess. Would he ever forgive 
her? Worse, would the whole episode implant his bitterness and mistrust of 
adults even deeper in him? Would he be permanently alienated from the 
law-abiding world?...Then another horrible thought struck her. 

"Did Richie...was it him?..." she faltered, not wanting to verbalize her 
fear. 

"Don't worry, Miss Warner. They got nothing out of your lover boy. They 
didn't have to. These drawings were evidence enough. These, and the Holliman 
kid's testimony..." 

* * * 

The exhibit was a great success. All sorts of people, including some press 
reporters and photographers, came to see the "student" work. Of course, 
Richie won first prize. She was thrilled and excited for him. This would 
mean an opportunity to continue his art studies, to make a name for himself 
in the art world perhaps. 

She had little opportunity to talk to him, and she was grateful for that. 
They were separated by a sea of strange faces "oohing" and "aaahing" around 
each of them. She swelled with pride mainly for the kids. They had worked so 
hard for this. She felt it was enormously beneficial to them to have this 
kind of recognition and appreciation come their way. 

But there were strained moments, too. From time to time she caught some of 
the staff members looking curiously at her and whispering behind their 
hands. The students looked at her strangely, too. She would see little knots 
of them giggling self-consciously as she passed by, then hear the sibilant 
sounds of youthful whispers in her wake. It was all a hideous nightmare come 
true, almost like Picasso's "Guernica". The thing she feared had become 
reality, though it had never been as terrible in fantasy as it was in 
actuality. It was all she could do to smile and be pleasant. She had to 
summon all her will to keep from bursting into tears at every moment, and 
she barely heard the many lavish compliments that came her way. 

"You look quite pale, my dear." someone said. "Are you ill?" 

"What?...Oh...yes...yes, I'm fine." she said, misinterpreting the question. 
"It's the excitement, I suppose..." Everything was a blur. She moved through 
events and people with no sense of time, with no clear perception of 
anything that was happening. It was all a dream...a terrible, terrible 
dream. 

Suddenly she heard the warden's big voice calling for quiet in the hall. 
"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, fellow staff members and 
students, I have a couple of important announcements to make. First of all, 
I wish to extend the congratulations of all of us here at Porterville to 
student Richard Perrera on his winning first prize in this competitive 
exhibit." (Hearty applause.) "He will receive a $500 Art Scholarship to any 
state-approved university of his choice upon achieving his legal majority at 
the age of eighteen. (More applause.) "Secondly, I want to extend the 
whole-hearted thanks of all those connected with this institution to our 
Arts and Crafts Teacher, Miss Lorie Warner, for the splendid job she has 
done in organizing this event, as well as my personal thanks for her 
considerable contribution to the vocational guidance and rehabilitation 
incentive program of the Porterville Youth Ranch facility." (More applause, 
coupled with some significant throat clearing from the staff and some more 
self-conscious giggling by the students.) 

"It is therefore with deep regret that I make this next announcement." the 
warden continued. A hushed and breathless silence descended upon the 
assembled group. 

"I have before me a letter of resignation that was tendered to me within the 
last two weeks by Miss Warner. I should like to read it to you now...'Dear 
Warden Blanchard: This is to notify you of my resignation as Arts and Crafts 
Teacher and Vocational Guidance 

Counselor of the Porterville Youth Ranch, effective Sunday, April the twenty 
sixth. I have enjoyed my duties at this institution enormously during the 
past six months. However, I have just received an affirmative response to an 
application submitted to the Laguna Honda Home in San Francisco, California 
some months before undertaking my teaching duties at Porterville. I feel 
that the position with the geriatric patients in that lovely city would best 
suit my talents, temperament and capabilities at this time. Therefore, I 
respectfully ask to be extended the favor of terminating my services and 
responsibilities as a member of the Porterville staff. Thank you. Sincerely 
and respectfully, Lorie Warner. Carbon copy: Justice Alfonso M. Alvarez.' " 

The big man cleared his throat. Throughout the room there were hushed 
comments. Lorie felt as though she had just been sentenced to Purgatory by a 
stern St. Peter. Then the warden spoke again: "Fortunately, I have been able 
to acquire the temporary services of a respected correctional educator, Miss 
Abigail Voss, who has graciously consented to come out of retirement and 
assume Miss Warner's duties and until a suitable replacement can be found. 
Miss Voss will be arriving in the morning. Now, I am certain that all of you 
here want to join me in wishing Miss Warner the very best of luck in her new 
post at Laguna Honda. And I can't think of a better opportunity than at the 
big buffet table at the end of the hall, where I invite you to join Miss 
Warner and myself for some of the kitchen staffs delicious punch and 
cookies." 

* * * 

The slender boy shifted nervously from foot to foot and brushed an imaginary 
lock of hair from his forehead as he stood by the brown station wagon, 
waiting for the blonde woman to appear. In his small, perspiring hand he 
held a plain, white envelope, unaddressed and already showing smudgy 
wrinkles from the anxious handling it had gotten. Suddenly the woman 
appeared, flanked by one of the house proctors and an unidentified man who 
was carrying her suitcases. Brooks felt an enormous lump grow to 
basketball-sized proportions in his throat. Unwelcome tears began to fill 
his eyes, and he desperately tried to wipe them away with his sleeve of his 
little-worn suit. 

"Oh...Brooks." the woman said in a startled voice when she saw him. "I 
didn't expect you to be here." 

"Miss Warner...I...I...Please don't hate me! I didn't want to tell! Honest, 
I didn't! They made me tell. . . they forced it out of me!" he cried, 
falling into her arms, his little body wracked with heartbreaking sobs. 
Lorie broke down, too, as she hugged the trembling youngster. Then she 
quickly remembered that she was holding him against her soft, yielding 
bosom! She almost pushed him away from her. She looked at him through 
tear-filled eyes. He was a dim blur of the boy she had frolicked with so 
wantonly before. He seemed years younger than his age, and she felt another 
torturing pang of guilt and shame for her lewd and obscene behavior with 
him. 

"I know...I know, Brooks, and it's all right. It wasn't your fault. You've 
got to believe me when I say that. You're a fine young man, Brooks, and I 
shall never, ever forget you. I hope for absolutely nothing but the very 
best of everything in life for you, you deserve it." 

"Miss Warner...eh..." the stranger's voice said. The man was looking at his 
watch. "It's a long drive, you know." 

"Yes, of course...I'm sorry." she managed, regaining a bit of her composure. 
The house proctor put a motherly arm around the sobbing youth, then extended 
a hand to the blonde teacher. "Good-bye, Lorie," she said sympathetically. 

A trembling handshake was all she could manage. Then she got quickly into 
the waiting station wagon. She couldn't bear to look again at the sobbing 
boy. He thrust something in the window and it fell to her lap. "H-here, Miss 
Warner. He wants you to open this later." Then the dusty, brown automobile 
pulled away. 

It was only much later that evening, as she sat in the bleak and fetid 
airport waiting for her flight, that she had courage enough to open Richie's 
letter. 

Tears came to her eyes, and she was choked with emotion as she read the 
neatly scripted missive: 

Dear Lorie: 

I don't know what to say, or how to say it exactly. Funny I've always been a 
fast-talking smart ass before. Maybe because I never worried about feelings. 
My own or anybody else's. But now... 

You have done more for me than anybody ever did in my life. (And I don't 
mean physically though you know how I feel about that with you.) But in 
other things. You gave me something to shoot for...something to think about 
besides how to raise hell and get away with it. I realize a lot of things 
now that I didn't know before. That's really something! 

I do care for you. Perhaps I even came close to loving you though I really 
don't know what that's all about. But I will someday. I know that now too. 

I hope you can forgive me for all the rotten things I laid on you. (You 
should have kicked my ass good or had the Old Man do it!) 

Maybe I'll get to San Francisco some time. They say it's really terrific 
there. Maybe you could drop me a line. I'm going to miss you a lot, Lorie. 
Take good care of yourself, eh? Love, Richie 

The letter smudged under the drops of salty tears. She hugged the paper to 
her breast, and managed a smile which slowly grew on her lips. 

It had been worth it! Everything she had gone through, the anguish, the 
remorse, the warden's reprisal all of that was relegated to a secondary 
position in her mind. She had helped salvage a worthwhile young soul, and 
that redeemed her for all her misdeeds. She could begin again. What's more, 
she knew that Richie Perrera was on his way to becoming a talented and 
law-abiding member of society. 


THE END
